Avalaine stalked through the corridors of the castle, not caring where she was actually going.

  Many called out to her as she passed, but she rebuffed their attempts to engage with her as politely as she could. She kept moving until she had left them behind.

  Though she had known many of the castle’s inhabitants for her entire life, as she grew to adulthood, Avalaine had found that conversations with those outside of her close circle always turned to the subject of her parents. She did not want to spend time making promises to put in a good word with her father.

  Father. The letter!

  The thought caused her to stop in her tracks, just steps away from exiting the castle proper. She was near one of the courtyard entrances. Sounds of multiple conversations could be heard, and bright morning sunlight shone before her.

  Servants, courtiers, guards, groundsmen and merchants were out and about in the courtyard, either engaging in small talk or on their way to some other part of the estate. They all had business of some kind to attend to.

  Instead of proceeding into the courtyard, Avalaine turned sharply to her right and down a dimly lit corridor. She knew it well, as she knew every part of the castle. After all, she and Myria had spent much of their childhood exploring all the places they weren’t supposed to go.

  The hallway was a bit claustrophobic, not only because it could not fit two people standing side by side, but it also had no windows, so no sunlight ever reached it. Though the bright sunshine was mere paces away, it did nothing to light the space.

  Avalaine retreated into the darkened corridor, her eyes adjusting to the light of only a few candles along the walls.

  She knew the servants rarely traveled through here unless there was actual loading or unloading directly from the courtyard, so she did not expect to encounter anyone for some time.

  Leaning against the cold stone of the wall, she lowered her head.

  She did not feel good. Now it was only a slight nausea, but earlier she had felt as if she was going to be sick right at the table.

  That was part of the reason she had snapped at Myria, but only a part.

  What her mother had said about Garrick. It had hurt. She had felt something then. A drop of her stomach that took her by surprise.

  She felt so stupid. How had she thought things were going to go? That they would marry and live at Clarion Keep? Her father did not hate Baron Varsus, but it had been obvious for a long time that he did not see the man as a potential suitor. Even had Garrick asked, Avalaine was sure her father would have refused.

  And Garrick, undoubtedly, he would never ask, as he likely felt his own standing was insufficient to be a suitable match for her.

  She felt her nausea recede, but confusion washed over her to replace it.

  Why was she so stuck on him? They had spent so much time together as children, but less and less as the responsibilities of age set in, and now it was once a year at best, and twice, if lucky.

  Yet they always seemed to pick up just where they left off, and they wrote to each other constantly. Although Avalaine suspected if she did not write first, the man would never correspond.

  She smiled then. Garrick was so… Garrick!

  Then she thought of Lisbeth Vistal. The beautiful younger woman with her eyes on Garrick, or at least her father’s eyes were on Garrick.

  The last time she had seen Lady Vistal, she had not yet been of age, and even then she had been quite beautiful. She must be truly stunning now.

  Avalaine gritted her teeth.

  She wished Viscount Brandu would help her with this problem. He loved to help solve problems of most kinds, but affairs of the heart he would have no part of.

  Still, he had managed to deftly un-link the two of them, and remain unmarried to this day, all without angering the Royalty or his own people in Orel.

  Avalaine knew Brandu could help with this, but she wouldn’t burden the man with her emotions. He did not handle those well. Most men did not, but Brandu was something else entirely.

  The Viscount had always given her advice on problem solving. You must never dwell on the problems you couldn’t solve. Instead of allowing yourself to be overwhelmed by the entirety of the obstacle, you attack the smaller parts of the issue, resolving anything that you can one step at a time.

  Resolve. Resolve, she thought to herself.

  I can’t do anything about Garrick, but maybe I can stop Father from sending that ridiculous letter to the Prince.

  As far as she was concerned, they could leave matters with Prince exactly as they stood. Hopefully, Prince Randall had already moved on and had forgotten about her. A purported letter from her might give the man reason to renew his former interest.

  Now determined to stop the letter by any means necessary, Avalaine burst from the darkened corridor at a brisk speed that was just short of running.

  She startled two cleaning girls by her sudden appearance, and they tried to curtsy to her, but she had already swept past them by the time they recovered.

  I have to stop that letter! Was all she could think as she moved swiftly through the castle.

  ***

  In the Earl’s private study, Everett Crickney, Master of Ceremonies at Mount Lirra and Advisor to the Earl, felt a small knot of unease in the depths of his stomach.

  Despite the large window with the new style glass pane allowing in the day’s brilliant sunlight, things were seeming dark to him.

  Crickney was thin to the point of gauntness. The green robes of his office hung off of him in a way that he had never found flattering, no matter how much tailoring he’d had done.

  Even though his full head of hair still had some brown to it, it was mostly white. His skin had always had a mottled pink appearance, even in his youth, which was worsening with age.

  Crickney knew he was nearing the end of middle age, and in a year or two would be officially old, so he had seen quite a lot in his lifetime.

  For a long while, he had even been a steward -a minor one -at the Royal Palace, but the opportunities for advancement were almost zero in that place. If you did not have the right family name, there was no point in ever hoping for more.

  It was for that reason that he left his posting at the Royal Palace, traveling all the way to the north to take the posting left vacant by the death of Teyscha’s former top advisor.

  Here, his relatively minor status in Royal Maera was viewed with appreciation and respect, and most had welcomed him at Mount Lirra.

  Times had been good, but he feared those times were changing. And his biggest fear was that the Earl did not seem to comprehend this.

  “Crickney, do not just stand there. Am I to draft this letter myself?” the Earl nearly shouted.

  Earl Brentan Lirra was seated behind his desk, holding a pen out to Crickney with a jar of ink at the ready.

  Crickney focused in on his Lord. Earl Brentan Lirra had always been more worried about what he did not have than what he did.

  Here he had a beautiful family. He had vast, beautiful territory, plenty of hunting, plenty of farmable land, access to the sea to the east, and none of the pirate trouble plaguing Varsus Province.

  Yet the man was constantly concerned and upset by what other nobles were doing and what they had. Crickney would love to have even a tenth of what this man had, but the Earl took it all for granted.

  “My lord,” said Crickney, “should not the lady draft her own letter?”

  “Absolutely not!” cried the Earl. “My lovely daughter is many things, but she is not wise in the way of politics. She has already made a muck of things on her own, but the right words from more politically savvy minds might yet draw the Prince back in.”

  Crickney frowned. He had not been in residence at the Royal Palace for many years, and Prince Randall had been but a child back then. However, he had been an obnoxious, bad-mannered child.

  As he had known Lady Avalaine for many years, he had no doubt that she had done the right thing by somehow deflecting the Prince’s interest.

  But that was not important right now. He stepped directly to the other side of the Earl’s desk.

  “My Lord, please. I must speak with you on a matter of much importance. These animal slaughters. I fear they are not just the work of some crazed bandits.”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “Pfaahhh!” said the Earl. “The animals were likely sick, and the hunters were just culling them from the packs.”

  “Our own huntsmen have said nothing of any sickness. If such a sickness is evident, then why not burn the animals, to destroy the bad humours? And why would those who did it not come forward and announce this to us?”

  The Earl waved his hand to dismiss the questions. He stood up and walked to the large window in the room, looking down at the courtyard as he spoke.

  “That is of no matter. The most important matter before us now is the matter of the Prince of Maeraland and my daughter.”

  Crickney grimaced. The Earl had seen a way to raise his station, if not for himself, then for his progeny. He would not be deterred. Not easily, at least.

  “But My Lord, surely we should find who is responsible for this? What if the Prince were to travel here, and he was greeted by piles of rotting carcasses every time he turned around?”

  This gave the Earl pause.

  “Hmmmm,” he said. “Perhaps you are right. Everything here must be in top order before the Prince arrives!”

  Crickney noticed that the Prince traveling to Teyscha had suddenly become a certainty to the Earl. He pounced, sensing a path forward. Moving to stand next to the Earl, he pressed further.

  “My Lord, I would like your leave to investigate these animal slaughters further… er, before the Prince arrives.”

  The Earl’s face tightened up, and he focused on Master Crickney with narrowed eyes.

  “Crickney, I don’t want you stirring up trouble around here over some sick animals,” the Earl said, his tone that of a warning.

  “No of course not, my Lord,” said Crickney, bowing a little as he did so, “I just want to rule out some things. The way the animals were left it appeared to be somewhat ritualistic to me, and I—”

  “That is exactly what I thought!”

  The two men spun, startled, and saw Lady Avalaine standing at the entrance to the study.

  “My dear…” the Earl began, but Avalaine rushed forward.

  “Master Crickney, I thought the very same thing when I saw the animals on the grasslands as I returned home! There were placed in such a perfect geometric pattern and—”

  “Avvy!” the Earl shouted over her, his voice booming.

  Avalaine stopped talking and lowered her head a bit in deference.

  “What brings you here, daughter? We have the issue of your letter to the Prince well in hand, if that is what you came for.”

  “What…?” Avalaine started, surprised. Then realized quickly that she had forgotten all about the mess with the Prince as she stood outside of the door and listened to Master Crickney and her father.

  “Oh… yes, Father, I believe I should leave matters of such political importance to men such as yourselves.”

  Her father beamed at her.

  “Ahh, you see! You see!” this last was directed at Crickney. “I knew you would see reason, my dear! But then what other matter brings you to me?”

  Avalaine thought fast.

  “Er, I… was looking for Master Crickney. My, um… yes, my personal effects did not arrive in my chambers, and I was hoping he could look into it.”

  Earl Brentan frowned.

  “Would not your ladies manage your personal items? Send Myria to deal with it, Crickney and I have a letter to draft.”

  Avalaine stepped forward, allowing her voice to become a pitch higher and her face to take on a look of worry.

  “I spoke with Myria, my Lord, and she tells me the porters have lost some of my belongings and—”

  “LOST?! Between the courtyard and your quarters? Pfaahhh! Crickney, go and deal with the porters, punish whoever is responsible for this incompetence, then retrieve my daughter’s effects!”

  Crickney bowed swiftly.

  “At once, my lord,” he said, as he began backing out of the room.

  Crickney and Avalaine caught each other’s eye as they both made for the door.

  Just as they were about to pass through it, the Earl called after them.

  “Oh, and Crickney! Make sure you return here immediately after. We have a letter to draft!”

  Avalaine stifled a laugh as she saw the look of annoyance cross Master Crickney’s face.

  He spun and bowed to the Earl.

  “I will return as soon as I have resolved this matter with the porters.”

  “Yes, see that you do,” said the Earl, but his attention was now on another document he had picked up from his desk.

  Avalaine and Crickney moved down the hall away from the Earl’s study, then entered the stairwell. They made sure no one else was around before they spoke.

  “How may other animal killings have there been?” Avalaine asked.

  “There have now been three, my lady,” Crickney said, holding her gaze as her expression turned from surprise to worry.

  “Three! Viscount Brandu always told me that two might be a coincidence, but three—”

  “Three is a pattern,” Crickney interjected. “Unfortunately, there is more, but your good father would not even hear the first part.”

  Avalaine swallowed. Something told her that maybe she didn’t want to know more, but she couldn’t help herself.

  “What else is there?” she asked, her eyes locked on Crickney’s.

  “People are missing.”

  Avalaine closed her eyes.

  She had been right. She didn’t want to know.

  ***

  Myria sat on the grass just beyond the eastern edge of the courtyard. She had always liked to come here when she needed to get away from things.

  Most did not bother coming to this side, because there was not much of interest out here.

  The view of unending grass stretching before you grew stale to most after a while, but Myria had always admired it. It seemed like if you could just cross that endless sea of grass, then things would be different on the other side.

  Of course, she knew that was not the case, but it always made her feel better to sit here for a time.

  Now that time is over, she thought, as she stood up, brushing any grass off her skirts that she could see.

  The air was so still this evening. Not even a hint of a breeze. It was somehow fitting.

  The sun was going down, and she had been out here a long time. She doubted anyone was missing her. She knew she had relatively little importance to this household.

  When the Countess had made her threat, Myria had been shocked, although now she was almost relieved.

  She had to marry someone, and unlike Avalaine, she was not beating the eligible men away with a tree branch. The specter of marriage had been looming for a long time, and now it had to be faced.

  Her only concern was that she knew her father cared not at all for her wellbeing. Whatever suggestion Countess Margaret offered to him would be taken if it could increase his lot even slightly.

  I could end up the Duchess of Wademount, Myria thought, smirking, even though she felt little humor about the matter.

  As she walked back through the grass to reach the courtyard, Myria saw two figures in the distance. The figures must have spotted her, as they changed direction to meet her.

  Soon Myria could see that these were castle guardsmen, and ones she knew, at that. Still, it was odd that the guards were out here on this side of the castle at all. One guard shouted out to her as they neared.

  “My Lady, what brings you out to this end of the grounds?”

  The one who spoke was named Lucas. Young and boyishly handsome, with curly blond hair spilling out from under his silver helmet. Lucas was quite tall and would be intimidating if not for his gentle nature.

  He had been assigned to the ladies many times on outings from the castle, and both Avalaine and Myria had fun teasing the poor boy, as he would become tongue-tied and blush furiously when interacting with Avalaine.

  He has never had a problem speaking to me, though, Myria thought, her mood darkening.

  “Lady Myria, please answer the question,” this from the other guard, who she knew by sight only. The question came out flat, and with an air of demand to it.

  He was older than Myria by perhaps ten years, and had a gruff, no-nonsense bearing to him. His face was pockmarked, though his thick black beard hid most of that.

  This one was not as tall as Lucas, but almost twice as wide, and it did not look like fat to Myria.

  “I come out this way to think sometimes. Is that acceptable?” she put a bit of her foul mood into her words. Whatever her problems, she was still a Lady, and as such, not accustomed to being questioned so brusquely by guards.

  The older guard seemed to realize he had overstepped and softened his tone.

  “My apologies, Lady Myria,” he said, bowing his head. “We were told to have a look out at this end, as a couple of the staff have gone missing.”

  “Missing?” Myria repeated, as if she didn’t know what that word meant.

  “Tobias and Randy both up and disappeared, my lady!” Lucas blurted out.

  “Both young lads with the gardeners and landshapers,” added the older guard, when he saw the names meant nothing to Myria.

  “Oh,” said Myria. “Perhaps they are not missing, but just decided to leave?”

  No one said anything, because all three of them knew that assertion was wrong.

  Although anyone could leave, Mount Lirra was a very beautiful place to live. Servants, staff, merchants, nobles and everyone else were all treated fairly, if not spoiled a bit compared to some places, which Myria knew well.

  No. No one was trapped at Mount Lirra, and even if they did decide to go, they would not simply run off in the night. There was no need to do so. If you desired to leave, you would be wished well and likely given a few coins to ease your journey.

  “We’ve got to continue on, but I think you should get back inside, my lady,” said Lucas. “I don’t like the feel of this coming night. It’s too still out here.”

  “Wait, what are you saying? That something happened to the boys?” Myria had forgotten their names already.

  “No! No one is saying anything, and we’ve probably said too much,” said the older guard. “Lucas is right about one thing, though. We need to continue our patrol, so we will bid you goodnight, Lady Myria.”

  The guards did not move, though, and Myria realized they were waiting for her to go. She turned and walked away, taking backwards glances as she neared the castle. The guards watched for her to get close to the castle, and when she did, they turned and began moving on.

  Now inside, Myria just wanted to go to sleep. She had missed both midday and dinner meals, but somehow she was not hungry. For now, she just wanted to go back to her chambers, collapse and let sleep take this awful day away from her.

  She only passed a few of the chambermaids in the halls and gave a brief greeting when necessary. She did not feel like talking any longer than was necessary.

  When she finally entered her chambers, two things were immediately wrong.

  First, Avalaine’s belongings were still there.

  By the Gods, I am going to tear those fool porters apart! she thought, but the angry thought was extinguished by a second factor.

  It was cold. Extremely bone-chillingly cold. She had burst through the door so fast and been distracted by the sight of the travel trunks that she had gotten all the way inside before the cold hit her.

  Why was it so damnably cold? The air outside was perfectly warm, perhaps a little more than necessary, but there was no reason for this chill. Her window was closed, but she did not think that was the cause. The moons were already rising, though. Harsh blue-white light shined through.

  She could not stay here tonight, that much was certain. Not with this cold. She would have to see the Mistress of Chambermaids and have something done about this room.

  Myria decided to grab a few items before she left. Working her way through the cluttered chamber she made for her wardrobe, determined to take a nightgown and other effects with her.

  Before she could take more than a few steps, she stumbled over something and fell, landing almost face first if she hadn’t been able to get her arms under her.

  She could not cry out before she was flat on the cold flooring.

  “Blessed LaKrona!!!” she screamed, once she had recovered. Myria did not know who or how, but someone was going to pay for the indignities of this day.

  Then, as she moved to pick herself up, she caught sight of something.

  Boots. Men’s boots.

  What were men’s boots doing in her chamber?

  Still on the ground, Myria crawled over to the boots and grabbed one, then she yelped and withdrew her hand as if burned.

  There was still a foot in it!

  Myria stood then, using the travel trunks for leverage to gain her feet.

  Looking down, she saw the body. One of the porters.

  She could not see most of his body, as he was fully clothed, but his face… looked almost… drained?

  The look of horror on the porter’s face in the harsh blue-white moonlight was more than Myria could take. She opened her mouth to scream…

  … the door to her chambers closed softly, with a definitive KLACK sound.

  Myria whirled at the sound, her scream caught in her throat.

  There was someone at the door to her chambers. A man. She was trapped in here with him.

  The window was behind her, but the moonlight did not quite reach into the recesses of the doorway arch.

  The man moved forward, and his eyes… they were red.

  What stepped forward into the moonlight was a living nightmare.

  The thing was man-shaped, but it was not a man. Its skin was a pallid, powder white. The way it moved, the motions were not smooth, but as if it skipped a few intervening motions each time it took a step.

  “Greetings, Lady Myria,” it said, and its voice was harsh and foul.

  Myria felt herself shutting down, and even as she fell to the ground, she could hear the thing’s harsh laughter.