The GlassDoll Chronicles
By
Dejsha Morris
Book One
Chapter One
The moon hung like a watchful orb in the darkening sky above the many towers and buttresses
of the palace of Kingshold. It observed the land, supreme and sovereign-like, as the coming of
its beloved night drew closer, a night that when unfurled would irrevocably change the lives of all
who dwelled in the castle walls below.
While the day continued to fetter away, giving little resistance to the coming vastness of night,
an old man, sitting astride his horse, glanced but briefly at the guards on each side of the mighty
gate.
"I am here to see her Majesty." He said in a voice which bristled with an authority unexpected
from a mere visitor.
After exchanging a surprised look with his fellow soldier, one of the guards, Bercalion, walked
forward to greet the newcomer. He had been made aware of the man's invitation, but in his
twenty-three years as a Palace Emissary, not even nobles had spoken with such a tone. Smug,
yes, patronizing, frequently, but never as if the visitor was a commander-in-chief of the place he
was only arriving to. Bercalion had met this man before, he had often visited the late king, but
back then he had never spoken with a tone such as this. It was almost as if this man was...
victorious over something. But such musings were not the jurisdiction of the official, Bercalion.
"Of course my Lord, please follow me." Bercalion said, opening the gate with a shouted
command. The old man, who was adorned with a mass of grey hair which flowed to his chest and
an equally long silvery beard, followed the guard, still atop his horse.
"How is Queen Briya?" the old man asked with a concerned voice and expression, but also a kind
of intensity that hinted that he was not just making polite chit-chat like any other visitor would.
"She had another vision; the Princess will be able to tell you of it, she was there."
The old man sighed as he dismounted his steed, "Perhaps I should see the Princess first, then."
The guard nodded.
"Of course, my Lord," he said and altered his route.
The pair walked silently through several corridors and at last, they stopped before two more
guards, who were standing outside the Princess's bedroom door.
"Lord Caulithir wishes to see the Princess," Bercalion told the guards and they parted to allow the
two to enter and walk through the beautiful bedroom where they saw the princess out on the
balcony.
"Bercalion," the princess cried when she saw the guard who had escorted the old man to her
balcony, "what is wrong? Is my mother-"
"Your mother is fine, my child." He put a gentle hand on the young woman's shoulder.
For once, Princess Priya didn't object when he called her "my child." She glanced interestedly at
Caulithir.
"This man was a friend of your poor father." Priya's face trembled - her father had been brutally
murdered a year before, "and he wishes to know of the prophecy your mother gave."
"Mother doesn't want anyone else to know," Priya said, glancing at Caulithir uncertainly.
"I want to help you and your dear mother. Your father trusted me, and I hope that you will do the same."
"Oh, well, I suppose it won't hurt to tell you . . ." She closed her eyes as if trying to remember something.
"Ah yes, this is what she said:
When the warrior King leaves all to ruin due to his death,
There will be war, no peaceful rest.
A dark Lord will take the throne,
And the princess will be his Own.
Seek therefore, the pieces of the ancient doll,
Who once was a single soul.
There you shall find answers to all your questions,
And you shall also learn important truths and lessons."
---
Meanwhile, as the street lanterns of the town that stretched out below the great castle walls
were systematically lit, a musician by the name of Cynda walked through the marketplace,
playing music from her mandolin and collecting change which she almost immediately used to
buy goods from the selection of cheap remnants from the traders' day as they began to shut
their stalls for the night.
A girl suddenly ran by at such speed that Cynda had to flatten herself against a wall to avoid
being knocked over, holding her position as a burly elven man ran past after the girl too.
Acting on one of her naturally-occurring curiosity impulses, Cynda raced off towards the castle,
in the general direction where the girl was running to.
---
Amelie ran.
And kept running between the battlements, through the towers and both over and around walls, trying to work her way
towards the ground.
The wind followed behind her, howling as it came, much like the dogs they'd release so soon. It told her to keep
moving, faster, and faster, and faster. She listened to the wind. It had always spoken true before.
She leapt from the outcropped carving to a balcony and planned the next few jumps.
How did she get caught? She never got caught!
The term 'Master Thief' wasn't given out to just anybody now, was it?
But then, neither was the term ‘Master Trapper’... She had to hand it to the court trapper. He was a smart one.
Three pressure pads was normally a challenge for the average trapper, so six alone was a feat in itself, never mind
the complex locking system and the wires throughout the place. What you had to marvel over was the entire thing
could be deactivated by the hidden switch in the guardhouse. All except for a few stray wires around the treasury,
the entire system was protected.
And they did their job well. The informer should have been put in the stocks for missing out that important detail.
The trip wires led to bells in a separate room, triggering the guards response. Mainly, capture and containment of
the intruder. Something told her they hadn’t expected Amelie to use the wall to run past them...
So now she was trying to climb her way down a vertical wall, a hard task by anyone’s book. When her feet touched
the ground she barely had a chance to take a deep breath before the clatter of armour set her running once again...
Diving through a doorway, Amelie ran straight through the room, across the corridor and into another one. Turning a
corner, she scaled a low wall with an athletic ability formed from years of breaking into other's homes. She smiled
as she heard her pursuers run past the wall, calling to each other.
The 16 year old leaned back and sighed. Looks like she was going to have to change her hair again. Such a shame,
she had really enjoyed being blonde.
---
After her father's friend, who claimed to be a Spirit Guide (Priya had insisted that Nefinin-the court healer was
looking after the Queen – Priya didnt believe in such rubbish) and Bercalion left to speak to
Queen Briya, Princess Priya decided to take a walk to ease her daily growing anxiety.
At the entrance to the garden where she usually relaxed, she stopped and gazed down from the
sweeping balcony that looked over the entire town and her keen eyes spotted a girl on the ledge immediately below
her, who looked as if she had been running for quite a great distance.
The girl’s blonde hair was a mess and she looked to be sweating profusely, panting heavily as she rested on the
wide ledge just below the balcony's railings.
"Who are you?" Priya asked, glancing at the girl.
"What the-?" Amelie turned around sharply, looking up and finding herself being watched by
some fancily dressed noble. Suddenly feeling very self conscious, Amelie focused for a moment.
Princess... Priya wasn't it?
"I'm no-one you need to concern yourself about, err, princess. Just another citizen passing
through," Amelie rambled off. "So, if you'll excuse me, your highness, I'm going to go and do...
citizen-y things."
The thief leaped away, ignoring the fatigue that had already sapped at her muscles as a fresh dose of adrenaline
flooded her blood stream. Thieves relied on these survival-granting adrenaline shots,
they embraced them, harnessing them really.
Amelie didn't stop running until she reached her usual spot on the roof of the cathedral.
She knew it was dangerous for criminals to frequent an area, but with everything else changing in her life, she
needed something solid to hang onto.
The entire town stretched below her, the stalls in the marketplace and bustling atmosphere could all be witnessed
from up here, but the magnificent thing about the cathedral was that it was so eerily quiet. From here she wasn’t
part of the world. She was separated from it and could only be a spectator. One would have felt like a god, or king
if they were so inclined. However, Amelie didn’t come up here to feel power coursing through her veins.
The cathedral roof made her feel detached from reality. There was an airy-ness about the place, a purity which
couldn’t be found below in the streets. The building itself also had a certain sentimental value. It was the first
building she’d scaled successfully asides from her own house. When she was up here, Amelie didn’t feel tied down, or trapped in by the walls and streets. There was room to breathe here... Room to dream as widely as she wanted.
Leaning against the flat part of the roof she gazed up at the clouds, musing over what had happened earlier.
‘Brilliant,’ she thought, ‘spotted by the guards and royalty in one day.’ Amelie was willing to bet this day
couldn't get any worse business-wise.
A door creaked behind Amelie as she saw a familiar figure step out of the cathedral bell tower and onto the roof.
She groaned. Talk about speaking too soon.
"Amelie, where have you been all day? I've been worried sick. You could have been dead, or horrifically injured, or
locked up in a police cell."
Amelie smirked when she heard the last of that statement. The man had no idea how close he was to the truth...
"Dad, what are you doing here? Aren't you afraid of heights?"
"Yes, but I couldn't find you anywhere and this was my last resort..." Her father was a short, rather pudgy man
with thinning brown hair. It was the same shade as Amelie's had originally been. His eyes were trained on Amelie
rather than the view. It may remind him of just how high up they were.
Amelie smiled despite herself. She supposed it WAS kind of sweet that her dad would face his chronic fear of
heights to see her. Still, was five minutes too much to ask? The treasure she'd stolen earlier was currently
digging into her thigh and she wanted to examine it properly before she had to hand it over in a few hours time.
"How about going home and I'll make us soup?" Amelie asked, rising from her favourite spot to sit. "I'll meet you
at the bottom."
---
Cynda looked around at the empty streets, not seeing the blond woman anywhere. That is until
the blond woman ran right past her again this time back from the direction that Cynda had just come.
Giving up the chase with a disappointed groan, she looked up at the mighty walls of the Palace,
stretching tall and resolute from the beating bosom of the earth itself.
A new impulse entered her mind and she approached the guards at the nearest gate. It had been
so long since she had last been in the Palace grounds and she missed it. The atmosphere there
was always so serene.
Hoping against hope that the guards on duty would grant her wish, as a minstrel and worried
citizen, to play for the sick Queen and her nobler subjects in the gardens, she was delighted
when they accepted, letting her through without much trouble. Though the female guard did
search her quickly for weapons and confiscated a blunt pencil.
As Cynda moved through the sheltered grounds, bathed in dim pink from the sunset's last rays,
she spotted the princess.
Brushing her red, curly hair (that was arranged into two braids) away from her face, she
approached the young royal, not having seen the princess or anyone like her in ten of her twenty
years. Last time she had seen Priya, the princess had been a small child holding her mother's hand as their open-
top carriage rolled through the cheering crowds.
To her dismay, Priya only gave a small wave before turning and once more entering the castle,
her viewing of the world below apparently finished. Cynda shook the disappointment off quickly
and spent a while longer enjoying the gardens, but the strangely chill evening made the gardens
remain deserted and, with no-one to be soothed by her music, Cynda decided to venture deeper
into the castle buildings.
-----
Usually, exposure to the gardens would have made Priya's worries dissipate.
She supposed that until now she had never been truly worried before. She had felt the heart-
wrenching grief of losing her father, but now it felt like all that pain and anxiety that still kept her
awake at night and haunted her dreams when she slept might be doubled if she was suddenly
orphaned.
She and her mother had just begun to make progress, helping each other to get through their
shared loss. Who would be there for Priya now when she needed help? When she needed
comfort? When the world became too much and when irrational fears crept over her like red-
eyed spiders in the dead of night, weaving thoughts of despair and panic in her mind so she
whimpered in the throes of restlessness. Shadows in the corners of the chambers still waited like
demons to seize her and drive her mad. Who would protect her now?
As a pair of footsteps sounded behind her, Priya turned with a startled jolt.
"Who's there?" she said, her voice echoing with the fears that were circling in her head.
"Only I, your young Highness," said Nefinin, stepping out from a hollow wall recess hidden by a
tapestry, his long-nailed fingers admiring the flowers of a nearby potted rose shrub. He picked
off one of the flowered heads with a sharp click of his talon-like fingers and presented it to the
Princess. His long black hair glinted in the torchlight along with his frosty blue eyes.
"It's a shame not even the serene splendour of nature's most treasured prizes can equal your
beauty, dear Priya.”
"Why Nefinin, it is good to see a familiar face in such a troubled time. I must also thank you for
the gift and the compliment, though I am not as beautiful as you say."
Her hand brushed his as she accepted the rose and she felt a shudder of pleasure run through
her. Nefinin's fingers interwove hers and locked gently.
"Do not think you are less than you are my dear one. It hurts my heart when you do so, and my
heart is not as strong as some suppose. I have just been to check on your mother; my latest
elixir has allowed her to rest, but her eyes remain open and haunted as I continue to fail in
discovering a way in which she can sleep again. It has been several days now and every time
she begins to doze, the ghost of that ghastly prophecy descends upon her so she cries out for
her guards. But they cannot help her, just as I cannot seem to help her."
He looked sadly back at the rose shrub, avoiding Priya's eyes.
He had concocted a total of twenty one elixirs so far; some had eased the Queen's mind
temporarily, some for almost a full day, but others had brought the images of former visions
before the Queen's eyes even while she was awake like wolves drawn to bleeding prey. Every
time Nefinin had thought he'd at last reached a solution, he had been proved wrong within a
matter of hours.
Priya turned to the man to whom she felt special feelings, but she was too scared to let him
know. Healers were classified as "noble" in this time and age, so if they were ever to marry
things would work out fine.
What was she thinking? She had no idea how the Healer felt about her, whether he felt
admiration, or love, or brotherly companionship. A red blush crept up onto her cheeks and she
turned slightly away from him to hide it from his view.
"My dear Nefinin, I would never hurt you, you - someone I lo-" she stopped herself just in time
and her face, if possible, grew redder. She took a deep breath and continued.
"...I don't know how to thank you for all you have done for me and my family, you are a gifted
healer and a beautiful soul and I feel so comforted when you are near. My mother might not
have lasted this long..."
A tear rolled from her cheek,
"If it were not for you and your gentleness," she moved closer to the Healer, needing to be near
the caring man.
Nefinin caught the tear and wiped it away, his hand remaining on the edge of her cheek.
"Someone so young and dear should not have to carry such heavy burdens. It eases my soul to
know that I have provided a comfort, but come now, my dearest one, do not weep, smile, smile
for me. It makes me happy when you do so.”
Priya had unconsciously leant into his touch, needing to feel his warmth. "I'll... try... but so many
secrets... so many things I have to do on my own..."
"My greatest wish is that you didn't have to be on your own." And he pulled her close into a
gentle hug, his heart beating against hers.
"Viscount Nefage!" a servant girl ran up and Nefinin hastily pulled out of the embrace.
"Yes, Miss Germinia," he addressed the servant. "What is the matter?"
"It is the Queen, Viscount! Your latest elixir has given her a seizure!"
"What!? NO! Priya, forgive me!" And with that, he turned and ran, easily passing the servant in
his haste, back through the tapestry recess towards the Royal Chambers.
Priya had clung to him and was about to speak when the news the servant had just brought
registered in her still-swirling mind.
"Mother?" Priya uttered as a small cry, her body quivering as Cynda appeared at the opposite
end of the corridor, attracted again by curiosity to the commotion.
Priya ran after Nefinin and the servant through the corridors, her heeled shoes clicking on the
stone ground and Cynda followed, not yet considering if it were her place to intrude.
Nefinin was tearing past every occupant of the castle he met as he raced as fast as he could for
the Queen. He wasn't even aware that Priya was behind him, so intent was he on reaching Her
Majesty that he physically and heavily collided with her chamber door, issuing a loud bang from
his bones before he yanked the handle open.
The Queen was surrounded by several scared-looking hand-maidens, guards and an old man in a
corner. The Queen herself was thrashing on the bed, her eyes rolling. One of the hand-maidens
was limply holding a lime-green phial, unlidded, Nefinin's most recent elixir.
Reaching into his belt-pouch, Nefinin pulled out a small cylinder, removed its cork and fed the
hot red liquid the draft contained into the Queen's mouth, massaging her throat and propping
her up until she had swallowed it, not an easy task as she continued to shake violently.
The thrashing did not ease, even after the healer had waited for ten painful seconds for it to do
so.
Throwing the cylinder away angrily, he placed two fingers on the queen's temples and pushed
her back down onto the pillows, breathing deep to steady himself. Slowly, he relaxed, and as he
did so and the seconds ticked by like years, the Queen relaxed too, before at last becoming still,
her breathing even.
Suddenly, Nefinin was thrust back and banged against the wall, thrashing in the Queen's seizure,
his head battering off the wall in uncontrolled reverberations before he threw himself to the
ground.
---
Priya had entered the room, her heart thudding against her chest with Cynda and Ms Germinia close behind. The sight of Nefinin’s struggles horrified her.
After about a minute, Nefinin began to ease and return to his normal self, but he was breathing heavily.
He had absorbed the Queen's seizure when the antidote had failed and had fought against it,
triumphing where his queen couldn't by himself being in a stronger mental and physical condition
than his sleep-deprived Majesty.
"Nefinin? Nefinin!" Priya said softly at first and the second time she said his name, it was a little
louder. She rushed over to him. "A-are you alright, my Lord?" she asked, taking his hand in hers.
Cynda watched quietly. "Shall I play soothing music for her majesty," she spoke up, cowering a
little, the thought occurring to her that the royalty would be angry she was there.
"Why not?" Nefinin responded to the girl with the musical instrument.
"Music cannot cause harm. Play, please, and lighten this mood, for the Queen is now safe once
more."
"Thank you, it will be my pleasure, sir," Cynda said, bowing to Nefinin and Princess Priya. She
began to play the harp.
He picked himself up with a low exhalation of strain and looked directly at Priya. The memory of
the moment they had shared but a few minutes before returned to his mind and made him feel
awkward.
"Excuse me, your Highness," he said respectively and moved past Priya to sit down wearily into a
chair. Fighting the fit had taken a lot out of him.
"Of... of course," Priya stammered, wondering why he had an odd expression on his face a
moment before. As the music washed over her, however, it was driven from her mind. The music
was so sweet, so beautiful, that she began to cry through her slightly closed eyes. She moved to
her mother's bedside and took her hand. The Queen gazed glassy-eyed at the group without
comprehension, but breathing.
Nefinin gazed at Priya with heavy eyes. He watched her tears and it cut his heart like an iron
spike to see her this way and he wanted nothing more than to resume that hug he had been
sharing with her before this incident; to hold her and whisper sweet comforts in her ear as he
protected her from the horrible beast the world seemed to be becoming. He wanted to give her
peace and joy and happiness, love and safety and companionship through any coming storm her
mother was predicting. But he couldn't do any of this in front of all these people. And why was
that? He couldn't comprehend it right now. He rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his
nose in sudden fatigue. There was no reason to be thinking such selfish thoughts at such a time
as this. He felt weak.
Priya saw his look of fatigue and sighed through her sobs. She wanted to love him, to hold him,
to protect him from her past, present and future, but right now she couldn't. She was confused
and tired. With tears rushing down her face, she said softly to her mother: "I'll be back," and
exited the bedchamber, crying softly.
Nefinin groaned as Priya departed. How could things have become so difficult so quickly? He
looked up at the old man in the corner.
Cynda looked at Nefinin after Priya rushed out. She was playing the harp, serenely, sitting in an
ornate chair. She glanced at the old man in the corner too, curious.
"I have never met you before, sir. Who are you?" Nefinin asked the man.
"I am Caulithir, my daughter; Cauletha is the maid in the corner. I am a spirit guide for her
Majesty." The old man gazed over at the Queen who lay still on her bed.
"What is a spirit guide?" Cynda asked Caulithir, speaking before considering if it was appropriate.
Perhaps if she spoke openly without trying to fade into the background, the people around her
would think she was supposed to be there. The scene in front of her was beginning to resemble a
fairytale and her curiosity was holding onto her with a iron grip.
"A guide who tries to, shall we say, heal the sick by helping their spirit... Most healers," and here
he gave Nefinin a suspicious look, "don't associate with us, for they feel our methods are foolish.
The Princess did not want me to come, I am afraid, but my child convinced her."
"At this moment and time, my good man,” Nefinin responded. “I couldn't care what sort of healer
you are as long as you can help my Majesty. Though I freely admit that usually, yes, I would
scoff at your apparent nonsense and take great delight in my scornful mirth, but my elixirs are
failing me and my monarch is suffering because of the science I have dedicated my life to no
longer being able to sooth her. So apply your science or art or whatever you claim it to be to my
queen and heal her. I beg of you.”
He closed his eyes and pinched his nose harder, a headache's tendrils beginning to wriggle
across his forehead.
Caulithir glowered at the foolish man. Did he know anything?
This was no 'art? or 'science', you had to be born with it, it couldn?t be made. He got up,
breathing through his long crooked nose and approached the Queen. He was glad the whiny little
Princess was out of his hair, now he could do his job.
"Be warned, gentleman. I may have my eyes closed but I am watching everything you do to my
queen," Nefinin added as a final point on the matter.
-----
Meanwhile, Priya stormed through the corridors, angry, confused and alone. She did not want
that spirit guide there, her Nefinin (now why was she calling him that?) was wonderful and she
knew what sort of rubbish (as Nefinin had instructed her to avoid) those spirit guides claimed to
perform on their sick or dying victims.
Priya had calmed down, though her face was still red and her eyes red-rimmed from crying. She
turned in order that she might return to her mother?s bedchamber. She wanted to be close to
her, even if she was not aware of her daughter?s presence. Being alone with the shadows of the
Palace with their unblinking eyes staring at her was not something Priya could spend long doing.
-----
Caulithir quickly put a bottle up his sleeve and withdrew another. He?d been doing this for the
majority of his “healing work”; very few of the bottles? substances actually made it to Her
Majesty?s lips. Most of the time he was muttering, including when Priya re-entered the chambers.
After looking for a few anxious moments at her mother?s unchanging condition, she walked
slowly over to be nearer to Nefinin.
"Your Highness, how do you feel?" Nefinin asked, trying to hold back the unprofessional amount
of concern in his voice.
"Do you really want to know?" she replied, sitting on the floor and leaning her head against his
leg.
"I feel... terrible. My main concerns are you, my mother and..." She glared over at the 'spirit
guide' who was examining the Queen.
"Do not worry about me, your Highness, I'm fine, I have already recovered," he smiled down at
her softly and gently stroked her hair with a sharp-nailed hand before he caught himself, looked
hurriedly around and withdrew the hand back to the chair's arm.
Cynda watched the spirit guide, suspiciously. She was still playing her harp so felt it was safe
enough to whisper to the princess:
„Those guides are hocus pocus, and I mean literally!?
She hit some terrible notes on the harp on purpose to distract the spirit guide to make sure he
had not heard. Also, it was helped by the sudden rush of nerves that went through her when she
considered that talking to blend in was one thing, but lowly, apparently-rarely-looked-at servants
didn?t suddenly start speaking to their employers, especially at such a tense time. None of the
other run-of-the-mill servants had dared speak to her.
-----
In the mind of the Spirit Guide, things were not as they should have been, for the “healer” was
not present for a noble cause, but rather on one that was selfish, deceitful and evil.
Thankfully, he thought, everyone else’s attention is fixed on the Queen and not on my methods.
Then his heart jumped in tune with the harsh chord suddenly issued from the harpist.
-----
Why did he have to hide how he felt about the woman at his knee? Why couldn't Nefinin not just
declare his feelings with word, song, shout and action?
He sighed inwardly. He had to be strong for her.
"My Lady," the Spirit Guide suddenly said, looking up. “Is all well? Allow me to heal-"
"You'll do no such thing! It is because of my good friend Cauletha that you are lucky to be here
in the first place," Priya responded angrily, and the Guide retreated back to his previous work.
"Tell me what you're doing there, gentleman?" Nefinin asked the "healer", he couldn't help but
be suspicious when it concerned the welfare of his queen.
"If I wasn't so down, I'd sing..." Priya blushed; listening to the music coming from between the
minstrel?s gifted fingers. No one had heard her sing before.
"Would you like to sing, your Highness?" Nefinin asked Priya, distracted from checking on the
Guide.
"I think I would... I'm... not that good, this is one of mother's favourite songs."
"Then do so, your Highness," Nefinin encouraged her, giving her hair another gentle stroke while
no-one was watching.
"I?d be honoured if you sang to my music, milady," Cynda said, not pausing playing or looking
up, "please grace us with your singing."
"Well spoken, artist," Nefinin said to Cynda, giving her a small smile before he refixed his eyes
on the healer-at-the-bed's antics.
Priya stood up beside Nefinin and began to sing. Her strong, rich voice fitted the song and even
the Guide stopped his work to listen to her. When she finished the song, it was to a stunned
silence which echoed through the room.
Nefinin hadn?t realised how much he loved Priya.
Cynda had gasped and altered the music to match the princess? voice. She finished with an
elaborate flair to match Priya's finish. Then she stopped playing, too stunned to continue further,
but rather letting the moment remain and be experienced for as long as possible.
When the moment could no longer exist, for truly beautiful things can be perfect for only a short
while, she smiled at Nefinin.
"Thank you, milord, for allowing me to play," she said, watching the two people smitten with
each other. It inspired her. She played another song, an older one that seemed to encapsulate
their innocent love to every note.
Priya opened her eyes when the new song began.
"I'm sorry, I did warn you,” she apologised to those around her.
"Yes but you gave us a wrong warning. We were left unprepared to hear such glory," Nefinin
said, his eyes lit with adoration, blind to the resumed workings of the Spirit Guide.
"Indeed," Cynda said, hitting a set of higher note.
"Glory, my Lord? I think not." Priya said, and she sat back down and leant against him once
more. When she was singing, it had taken away all of her worries, as did being near Nefinin.
"I think I agree with milord." Cynda said from her spot, playing another new song, one that she
had composed herself and thought Priya would like.
"Thank you, I suppose?" Priya said, closing her eyes with her head against Nefinin's warm leg.
"Are you almost done, healer? Nefinin asked the man, his eyes returning to their watchful duty,
He wasn't sure how he felt at the moment. He liked Priya's close presence and yet he couldn't
express his true feelings for her, so he focussed on what he did understand- the situation with
the spirit-man.
"Not yet I-"
He broke off as the Queen whimpered causing Priya to shiver with the chill of fear.
"You're Majesty!" Nefinin moved Priya's head carefully to one side and rose, but collapsed to the
ground as soon as he lost the chair's support. He still felt unsteady on his feet. He got back up as
quickly as he could and shakily walked the few steps to grasp the queen's bedside for support.
"Your Majesty!" he reiterated, his voice almost a plea.
Cynda glanced at the Queen, concerned. She changed her song to something more soothing, it
was all she could do.
Priya rushed over to Nefinin, putting her arm around his waist to support him if he fell again.
"Mother? Mother!"
"Why won't she reply to me...?” Nefinin was saying. “Why won?t she reply to Priya...? Why do
you stand there idle, man, continue your work!"
His eyes blistered with raw emotion as his concern, desperation and anger were all forged into
one surge of adrenaline. He needed action and he himself couldn't act so he needed this fool to
act for him.
"I... I believe her spirit has entered the World of the Dead." The man said and before he turned,
Priya saw a smirk on the fools face.
"No! You... You..." She would have struck at him, but Nefinin needed her support.
Nefinin had no such qualms. With a surging adrenaline-fuelled boost of his strength he punched
the man right in the face and pinned him to the wall.
"Heal her," he hissed at him through clenched teeth.
Priya was the one who smirked now, her only concern for her Lords bruised hand.
"I..." The man was spluttering and turning blue. "I can't..."
Cynda had been playing quietly in the corner, and she stopped playing when the “Spirit Guide” had gone too far. She
got up and threw something at him, completely forgetting her position and everything. She didn't care that she
missed.
Priya flashed a grateful smile at Cynda, and she moved closer to Nefinin. "Your hand. Its bleeding." She took it in
her own, before she realised what she was doing, she was about to pull away, but he put his fingers through her
own.
"I don't care anymore. Is she really dead?" he asked, in a voice filled with emotion.
A guard checked her pulse and nodded solemnly, hand-maidens started weeping.
"I am sorry, Priya... I've failed you and your mother. I'm so sorry."
He collapsed onto the ground with a sudden lack of energy, only retaining enough to hold onto Priya's touch.
Tears fell from Priya’s slightly opened eyes, she couldn’t believe it, her mother was gone.
She fell onto the ground beside him, feeling numb, one thing was certain, it was not his fault.
"Get . . . out. . ." she said in a tight whisper to the Spirit Guide. He left quickly, his nose bleeding from where
Nefinin punched him.
She put her arms around Nefinin, never mind that she shouldn't (especially in front of the crowd), but she didn't
care. "Darling, my love," she flinched, realising what she'd called him, but he was her love, even if he didn't
know that... yet. 'Oh darn emotions.' She growled in her mind. "You did not, and I repeat not, fail me. It was...
him."
"My Lady," Cauletha said softly, hesitantly. "I'm sorry... I didn't realise father would do that to the Queen."
"Cauletha, it is not your fault. I'm sorry that you had to see what your father did." The servant retreated and
Priya gently rocked Nefinin in her arms, sobbing quietly.
Priya gently moved Nefinin's head onto her chest, holding him tightly against her warm trembling body. Her heart
beat next to his ear and his fists clutched his robes as he sobbed.
Closing her red-rimmed eyes, Priya fell into a doze, which was filled with the dark forms of nightmares.
---
Amelie preoccupied herself with dashing down the steps of the cathedral scaling.
She chose the harder route down as it would take her father a while to navigate his way down to the cathedral
entrance.
She had the time. Stopping for a second about fifty steps from the ground, and resting in a high window-sill Amelie
pulled the treasure out of her pocket.
It glittered like crystal, but felt lighter and more fragile than crystal ever could be.
The object was small and spherical in shape, almost like an eye.
On closer inspection, Amelie found it was exactly like an eye. The detailed iris showed the work of a master glass
maker. It was breath-taking. The bronze light of the sunset caught the crystalline iris; enhancing the light’s warm
glow and dulling in it separate areas. It looked... alive. Before she could examine it further, she heard the
cathedral doors open again. Worried that her father may have actually made it down in decent time, Amelie stowed
the treasure away again in her thigh pouch before dashing down the last of the building to the ground.
On the way home, Amelie could hear the cathedral bells ringing quite erratically. She figured she'd find out what
was going on later that night after her father was immersed in the world of sleep and dreams.
---
Amelie breathed a sigh of relief. The dye had taken.
Under the floorboards in her room, Amelie always kept a few of what she deemed to be tricks of the trade. Hair
dyes, lock-picks, a heavy cloak... Standard equipment for some of the things she got up to when the sun went down.
She looked into the only mirror the house had and smiled. The bright blonde hair she had just under an hour ago had
been turned dark purple, almost black. Beatrice was an absolute marvel when it came to mixing these dyes. Amelie
didn't know where she'd be without her.
Amelie waited until her father was fast asleep in his chair by the fire. She didn't have to wait long. Fortunately
for her the man was a heavy sleeper, so he didn't notice the door creak when she opened and closed it. With barely
more sound than a spider creating a web, Amelie swept down the dark street, her cloak flaring out slightly behind
her. Her new acquired treasure was stowed again in her thigh pouch.
Amelie made her way out of the town. She checked carefully that no-one was following her before jumping lightly
onto the back of a passing wagon that was heading due North.
As the wagon rolled past the gates, Amelie descended it as lightly as she had getting on the vehicle.
The huge gate was next to no challenge whatsoever. If this man didn't want people arriving unexpectedly, he should
get better security.
Amelie made her way up the cobblestone path, the sound of her footsteps muffled by her soft boots still seemed all
the louder in the night air. Eventually she reached the tradesmen’s door of the large building. She knocked on it,
after a few moments hesitation, and waited for an answer.
"Yes?" the man asked, opening the door and peering at the girl before him. "What do you want?" he asked, in a bored
sort of tone.
All thoughts immediately flew out of Amelie's head. She pulled the hood of her cloak down to hide her face, or her
emotions. She couldn’t tell which.
"Umm..." she started, "I was hired t-to bring something here from the city. Something p-precious." Amelie would
rather face a straight plunge off the cathedral than do this, but these people had her father’s life in their hands
and she didn't want to give them a reason to take it from him…
"Very well, follow me." They walked silently through corridors that twisted and turned, until they reached the
throne room. The man told her to wait and he whispered her reason for being in the castle to the guards on duty at
the throne room entrance.
The breath caught in Amelie's throat as she followed the man through the corridors. She wanted nothing more than to
turn back and run out of this place. It felt cold down here and horribly restricted. She wanted light, fresh air
and openness. Her entire body was longing for it right now...
But, this was for her father. She could do this for him. She steadied the little resolve she had left as the throne
room doors opened. She hadn't been brought here when they 'requested' her services last time.
The Dark Lord, Kinarg sat on his throne and he glanced up, when he saw the man and young woman enter the room.
"Well, well, well," he drawled, "you finally have come, but-" he flicked his eyes past them both to the empty
doorway and his eyes glittered with anger, "where is the princess?"
Amelie's eyes held evident fear and the slightest bit of confusion. What had she done wrong? Her mission hadn't
been to steal any sort of princess. She was a thief, not a kidnapper after all...
Still, regardless of the facts, the person before her was not one to listen to reason whilst in a rage.
"I don't know..." Amelie managed somewhere between speech and a squeak, before hurriedly adding "My Lord."
Kinarg breathed heavily, trying to calm his rage. "What do you mean, you don't know? pray explain yourself woman!"
"You told me t-to steal th-is." Amelie fumbled for a moment, shaking as she produced the crystal eye from her thigh
pouch where she had stored it earlier.
She held it out before her in her two hands, biting her lip to control her shaking. "I w-wasn't told to k-kidnap
anyone." Her eyes were wide as she looked at the floor.
Amelie looked like she was torn between crying and running. This couldn't go wrong. It couldn't! Her father's life
was on the line here!
The Dark Lord was in two minds. He didn't know if he should scold the woman, or hug her. He walked down the steps
to her and gently lifted her face to his. "Forgive me," he said quietly, "I should not expect so much from you. I
will have the Princess eventually, but you have done well for now."
Amelie felt her face being turned gently upwards, her cobalt blue eyes met the Dark Lord's own grey ones while her
cheeks gained a very faint pink dusting of a fleeting blush. She felt relieved, but knew she wasn't off the hook
yet. He wasn't the sort of person to let an advantage go when he had one.
Amelie wasn't sure if she was seeing things, but she could have sworn there was something very different in his
Lordship's eyes than what she'd seen the first few times she was here. Despite herself her shaking was subdued into
silent trembles.
"T-thank you, my lord."
Kinarg smiled slightly. "I only want the Princess to question her, to get the prophecy from her own mouth; I
believe she was there when the Queen gave the prophecy... If you hear of this prophecy and what was said, I will be
most grateful if you would come to me and tell me exactly what it says." He moved closer, tracing a long finger
over her lips. "Very grateful."
Amelie was finding it harder and harder to look away from Lord Kinarg's eyes. Her blush returned as his finger
traced her lips.
"Understood..." she murmured quietly, trying hard not to move her lips too much or breathe. One of her now purple
bangs fell forward into her line of sight.
"Good girl." He smiled and without realising what he did, he gently tucked the lock of hair behind her ear.
Amelie was faced with the age old question. Flight, fight or freeze?
The warm hand that gently moved her hair and subconsciously caressed her ear felt all too pleasant, but frightening
simultaneously.
She had heard rumours of the deaths that had happened with just a snap of the fingers currently brushing her hair
back. Everyone had. How could something be so terrifying and so comforting at exactly the same time?
She couldn't fight him, she wasn't that stupid. So, flight or freeze?
Amelie finally remembered to breathe. She found blinking helped return her somewhat to her senses.
The problem was, she still didn't have an answer.
"Are you alright?" he asked, in a quiet voice, glancing at her confused expression. He softly moved his hand from
her hair and lay his palm on her warm cheek.
Amelie was silent for a second. She shook her head and bit her lip. Amelie reached up and took his hand in her own.
She brought his two hands in front of her, before placing the treasure she'd been supposed to deliver inside
Kinarg's hands. She had her answer.
"I have to go..." Amelie’s hand may not have been shaking, but her voice was, regardless of how much she tried to
conceal it. "My f-father could be waking at any minute and find I'm not at home." She took a step backwards, not
enjoying the loss of proximity, "I ask your pardon, my Lord."
Amelie let her eyes go back to the floor as she waited on a response.
Kinarg's hand closed around the glass object, as he gazed longingly at the woman in front of him. "Come back as
soon as you can."
Amelie took this as her signal that it was okay to leave. She nodded after she stood upright and left the throne
room with the speed of a bird in flight. She understood the sense of relief that washed over her as she left the
room, but why did she also feel loss?
She couldn't help looking back through the doors as they closed before following her silent guide through the
labyrinth of tunnels and corridors to the door she had entered the house by.
Kinarg sighed, his hands trembling as his mind and heart raced in unison, his thoughts and feelings swirling around
inside him. Why did he care about this young woman whom he hardly knew?
Chapter Two
Nefinin awoke, a while later, noticing that Priya’s warm, gentle arms were wrapped around him. Glancing up
at her face, he saw she was dozing, but fitfully.
Nefinin picked Priya up in his arms, finding the strength of resolve to carry on in the face of this tragedy,
feeling numb now instead of weak. So numb that he forgot that he could barely walk, but he remained surefoot enough
so that Priya remained still in his arms. He carried her to her bedchamber
, and tucked her in, kissing her on the forehead before he returned to His former Majesty's bedchamber.
One of the guards had brought the bedsheet up over her face. Doing his best to avert his eyes from this scene, and
his ears from the sobbing that surrounded him, he turned to Cynda.
"Minstrel," he addressed her. "Your nobility is truer than any given to me by simple birth; you kept playing your
art even in the midst of such a tragic time and for that I thank you. Take this as a proper token of my great
appreciation." He extracted from his pocket and held towards Cynda ten thick gold coins.
"Ah, good Sir, you are too kind," Cynda said, looking at Nefinin, "I have played the music for a selfish purpose
among these tragic times. But I thank thee for holding my performance in such esteem. I cannot accept such a big
sum, I don't deserve it."
He smiled at her, and he insisted that she take the money. "If you will excuse me, I have some things to see to."
He walked out of the room, through the corridors, and out of the castle.
---
Nefinin was slumped in the chair at the desk in his study. His house was so close to the royal castle it was
basically part of it. He and Priya often met and talked in the walled garden outside which, though the Neafage
family owned it as they had for generations, had a south facing wall which acted as one of the castle's buttress
foundations.
The healer was so tired. He couldn't face Priya at the moment even though she needed him now more than ever. He was
a coward and he knew it. He should be where she was, not sitting in a chair useless even to achieve the sleep which
his anxiety-fraught brain craved but stubbornly denied him.
"Go away," he mumbled at his mirror.
"Nah. Don't want to," the mirror answered him.
Feta emerged from the golden frame, the air around vibrating as matter subsided to allow him entry into the
carpeted chamber.
"So why you depressed?" Feta asked, seeming genuinely happy at his keeper's depression.
"The Queen is dead."
"I don't see why we should care about that."
"Priya has now been placed in mortal danger."
"Okay, let me rephrase, I don't see why I should care about that."
Nefinin's head snapped up and his haunted eyes made the glare he threw at Feta terrifying.
"Okay, sensitive subject," Feta reasoned, holding his hands up and backing away before grinning again. "Hey pass
the crystal, I'm hungry."
Nefinin reached into his pocket and threw a faintly shining crystal, carved pristinely exactly like an ear in the
general direction of the soft surface of a nearby divan. Feta leaped in front of its aerial path and, as he did so,
the crystal passed through him and his body switched from slightly transparent to solid mass. He sighed with
contentment and cracked his neck before walking over to the fruit bowl and scoffing down grapes.
"What am I going to do?" Nefinin breathed out in a despairing plea to his unwanted charge.
"'Bout what?" Feta asked, smiling with light blue teeth, drawing his face close to Nefinin's and offering the
healer a grape. Nefinin, however, refused the piece of fruit. He had more important things on his mind.
"About Priya!"
"What about her," Feta answered, popping the grape into his own mouth.
"I need to do something to save her! I know the best thing for her would be to leave the castle all together and
seek refuge in a stronghold but she would never leave her people and that kind of existence would be-"
"Shh..." Feta placed two fingers over Nefinin's lips. "You are getting very annoying very quickly... again. Fine,
I'm listening now, back-track, so her mother's out of the picture, she's the new head of the household, she has a
nice big castle with loyal guards everywhere and more wealth than a peasant could dream about. Where's the
problem?"
"There was a development before the Queen died."
"Which was?...”
After Nefinin had recited the prophecy, Feta pursed his lips and knotted his forehead, the embodiment of deep
thought, serious for the first time that month.
"Okay, got it!" he declared after a few seconds, striding to the window and lounging on it's window-seat. He looked
down at the birds in the walled-garden and smiled with an inner harmony while Nefinin waited, becoming more and
more distressed. For a short while.
"What's the answer!"
"Hmm? Oh, right, yeah, simple really."
Feta went back to looking at the birds.
"WHAT'S THE ANSWER!?"
"I can't tell you when you're choking me," Feta's voice was squeaky with the constriction. Nefinin released him and
fell to the floor, burying his face in his knees. Feta was enjoying his keeper's misery a little too much. He
delighted in it a few more moments before he crouched down and whispered the answer.
"Your little Priya, as far as we know, hasn't got a sister. The prophecy says "the Princess will be the Dark Lord's
own". So if I was you, which I'm glad I'm not, I'd get your luvvy-duvvy googly-kitten to a coronation pretty
quickly and turn her into a Queen. Or, I would see if someone else (though I think they would be a fool to do so),
wants to take the position; at least while we can think of a better idea."
---
Priya knew she should stay where she was, but she needed Nefinin, or at least, she needed to be around him. She
rushed out of the castle (avoiding the guards as much as possible – they would try to stop her from leaving; not
wanting her to be in any harm), and held her dress up out of the mud, that had been created by the rain but a few
days ago. She rushed to the healers house and walked quickly through the corridors, to his study.
Standing outside the doorway, so Nefinin or Feta could not see her, she listened to what was being said and she
shivered.
"Do you really think that is wise, making me a Queen at this current time? I'm sure the Dark Lord will find a way
to twist the prophecy." She had opened the door and now stood in the centre of the doorway, anger flashing in her
eyes.
"Priya!" Nefinin said, turning round, looking aghast.
Behind him, Feta squeaked in surprise and darted at the wall, forgetting he was in his solid form and smacking hard
into it rather than passing through it.
"Ow..."
"Both of you seemed shocked that I'm here..." She said this in a cool uncaring tone. Her arms were folded across
her chest and hundreds of thoughts and emotions filled her mind. She loved Nefinin, but wondered why he did not
come for her.
"I mean, you are both here, discussing my death." She sniffed loudly. She knew Nefinin would be shocked by her
behaviour, but she needed him, and he needed to realise that.
"My dearest love, I commit to you that we most certainly were not! Quite the opposite really, we were trying to
sort out some sort of strategy to save you from death!"
"Ow…”
"Love?" Priya asked, in a quiet voice and she then flicked back her long hair and gave him an 'it didn't sound like
that' look.
"Priya, believe me, please, I-"
"No-one cares that I am in pain!"
"No we don't Feta, so shut up!"
Feta picked himself up, glared at Nefinin and Priya through tattooed eyes before transforming into a shaggy, bright
orange dog and leaping onto the divan where he sulked. Priya ignored Feta, and spoke to Nefinin instead.
"What? Tell me, please Nefinin. Do you have any idea how hard it has been for me, to want to tell you how I fe-feel
about... and you..." She turned to the dog. "I believe you are not the only one in pain."
---
Cynda had followed Priya out of the castle, and she had stood behind Priya, but the Princess had not noticed her.
Priya had moved into the middle of the room, while she had been speaking to Nefinin.
Cynda jumped back when she saw the bright orange shaggy dog. She cautiously approached it, feeling awkward.
"Yeah, but I'm the only one I care about- oh crap."
Feta jumped up, morphing back into his human form as he took on a clearer sheen. "I've lost my body again." Feta
felt his newly transparent chest and his hands went through the torso.
"Great," he muttered, rolling his eyes.
"I know it's hard Priya, I do not claim to be in the same pain as you at this moment, you have just lost your
mother. You are not in the right state of mind for us to confess our feelings yet, I should have done it before,
but I'm glad I didn't for surely this tragedy would have destroyed the happiness of that moment. That moment should
be as perfect as you are perfect." He took her hands in his. "We must wait, but a little longer.”
Behind him Feta gagged. "Plus, it would look like one heck of a usurption on Nefinin's part to join with the future
queen almost instantly after the old queen dies. "I wanna be the king"- that'd be the rumour. Plus, I don't think
we've met before have we, Priya, or you over there- peasant with the harp?"
Cynda sighed and she stepped into the middle of the room, and she stared at Feta. "I thought he joined before the
previous queen passed away? Anyway, I heard his suggestion of someone ruling for Princess Priya, and I am willing
to help for as long as is needed. It could confuse the Dark Lord." Though it wouldn't be pleasant to go back there
as a prisoner, she thought.
Priya glared at the dog and she looked into Nefinin's eyes. "Forgive me, my dear Nefinin," she moved closer to him,
"I should not place my troubles upon you. Yes, I do love-" she stopped herself, "I'm sorry..." A tear rolled down
onto her cheek.
Nefinin cupped her face in his hand.
"I love you." He kissed her tear away.
Feta shivered and moved towards Cynda, bare orange-skinned feet with purple toenails pacing across the carpet.
"What a sickening display of affection-" he stopped and looked at Cynda. "You're female aren't you?" And without
waiting for a reply, he kissed Cynda square and long on the lips. His thick, dark eyelashes shutting like a sun
suddenly extinguished.
Cynda looked at his feet, perplexed as Feta moved towards her, that color actually looked nice on him. She agreed
with him about ‘display of affection.’
She was about to reply sarcastically, when he kissed her. She barely reacted at first then broke the kiss, shocked
and shook him. "You imp!" She grinned though.
Priya was startled and she put her arms around him, trembling in his embrace. "I love you Nefinin, I have for such
a long, long time." She pressed her cheek against his own warm one.
Feta would have held onto the kiss, but he was currently just a spirit. The only force behind the kiss was
basically his soul trying to leap down Cynda's throat, or so that's what Feta defined a kiss as: two people's souls
beginning to merge.
Cynda kissed well, so Feta wanted more.
"Where's that crystal," he said to himself, looking around the room and thinking back to where it had been thrown.
Cynda shook her head. That was weird, no soul tried to enter hers before... Cynda eyed Feta warily, wondering what
he was up to. Sure he was cute but still a rabble rouser imp to her.
"We cannot declare our love openly to the people yet, but my heart soars now that I have told you. I love you, dear
one, so much, I have loved you for so long, I have always loved you, the feeling did nothing but grow and I did not
fight it. Such a thing that brings me such joy cannot and should not be rejected or refused," Nefinin embraced her
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