An Uncivil War: The Dreaming King Saga, #2

By Richard Friesen

In a world torn apart by magic and war, everything hangs on the fate of a kidnapped prince…

While King Magnus climbs to his tower for a once-yearly prophetic dream to determine the fate of the kingdom of Dendalen, mysterious assailants kidnap his son, the infant Prince Karlis. Queen Carlota sends her champion, the unstoppable knight Kala, to hunt down the kidnappers.

However, the kidnapping is only the first salvo. Prince Filip, the king's only brother, unleashes full-out war before Magnus even suspects there is any danger. Why didn't the prophetic dreams warn him of his brother's betrayal? Magnus has no answer, only

Meanwhile, the queen's champion Kala pursues the kidnappers through the mountains in winter, surviving blizzards and savage attacks only to find danger from an unexpected magic.

Come through a wilderness of holy warriors, renegade priests, betrayals, and battles as the fate of the world hangs in balance.

 

The Dreaming King Saga

The Tower of Dreams

An Uncivil War (this book)

On Black Mesa

The Gates of Heaven

• Language: English
• Publisher: Richard Friesen
• Release date: Dec 2, 2016
• ISBN: 9781533754578

Book preview

Chapter 1: Deeds in Darkness

On midwinter’s day, after the sunset, Magnus, King of Dendalen, stood in the frigid night with Queen Carlota beside him as they waited for the high priest. The narrow passage between the Vittsten Katedral on the east, with its stone walls and high, peaked wooden roof, and the Bergenfastning on the west, a tall, strong fortress built into the mountain’s bones, was cold and windy as always. At the south end of the passage, a black stone stair led up onto the slopes of the Skalletberg. The ascent to Drommarna Torn, the Tower of Dreams, lay that way, beckoning Magnus.

Six Royal guards hovered nearby, waiting like the crowd holding vigil out beyond the cathedral and the fortress, but these would follow the king up to the tower.

Bright stars shone down from the high black sky. Magnus did not know if the weather portended anything, tonight just differed from the normal clouds and wind. A gale from the east howled down the mountainside, passing over the sheltered gap between the two massive buildings. On most midwinter nights, a north wind blew them up the mountain to Drommarna Torn for the dreaming. Tonight, Magnus’s thoughts misgave him. The whispered dissent in the land had no source Magnus’s spies could ferret out. Someone opposed him, but he couldn’t find out who.

The bell on the Vittsten tolled and Haug Prasta Ulf emerged, wearing white fur and bearing a steaming cup. Behind him came three other priests in black—two with drums and one with a pair of lanterns. Cheers rose from the people standing vigil.

With measured steps, the priests processed between the two buildings to where Magnus waited. The Dreaming had always been a ritual built around the royal family, now only Carlota remained. Magnus had banished his older brother Filip from winter court. Not being able to ascend must rankle Filip. Princess Brigida lived in Palua as Magnus’s ambassador, and while his younger sister, Helena, could have come, she preferred to stay with her husband. Perhaps he should invite Brigida’s son Nels, at least until Karlis grew up. At four-months-old now, Magnus’s heir amazed the king every day.

The haug prasta raised the cup. We are gathered on the darkest night of the year so the light of Valjar might shine on us and guide us through the coming days. Who dares ascend to the Tower of Dreams?

King Magnus stepped up. I, King Magnus, will dare the ascent in prayer and supplication. If Valjar finds me worthy, I will dream to aid and protect my people.

Haug Prasta Ulf offered Magnus the steaming cup. Drink; tea from the Drom Flood’s holy water and herbs from the Night Grove. Then, if you are worthy, ascend. He indicated the stairs behind him.

When Magnus drank, the draught’s warmth spread from his stomach to his chest and head, the magic’s first sign. What would he do if one day, like his father, it didn’t happen for him? Magnus moved up two steps and waited. Ulf repeated the request for Carlota.

I, Queen Carlota, will dare the ascent in prayer and supplication. Before she drank from the offered cup, she gave Magnus a knowing grin. She’d left off the second part on purpose, knowing she would never dream. The unexpected dreamer did happen, as when Magnus had become king, so more than one family member had to ascend. Magnus again wanted to put a second throne beside his and wished he dared. Carlota drank the tea and mounted one step.

Haug Prasta Ulf lit a ceramic oil lamp. Let the light of Valjar guide us this night. The priests lifted their lamps and led the way up the stairs carved into the Skalletberg, with each footfall in time to slow drum beats.

The walls closed in, threatening to suffocate Magnus. The black stone, the snow overhead, even the fortress and cathedral leaned nearer, threatening to cover him. Magnus did not hurry. He knew this feeling now, and it did not disturb him.

When the procession reached the top, Ulf stood aside. Pass through the snow gate and enter the realm of dreams.

Magnus stepped up, raised his hands, and pushed through the man-made snow bank. The claustrophobia lent him strength. Snow fell on head and arms, but as the mountainside spread before him, so did his awareness. The irony that he and Carlota could produce this same awareness at will with the magic cloth stole from her purification ritual brought a smile to his lips.

Magnus strode up the snow-covered trail, followed by Carlota, Ulf, and the king’s guards. Drifts rose on both sides. Along the climb, representatives of farmers, miners and the rest waited in snow caves to ask the king to dream for them this year. After drinking from the pool in the Cave of Days, Magnus would ascend to the tower, sleep, and dream. The holy, prophetic dream would guide him and his people for the year and help him make the right choices. Magnus never took the dream for granted, never forgot the day his father died. The king did not dream. Rather, the one who dreamed was king.

LATE THAT NIGHT, THE faithful and the desperate kept vigil around the bon fires as Anton, captain of Prince Filip’s guard, approached the Bergenfastning. He’d brought three of his men; Tove, a good fighter without much of a brain, Loffe, his best mountaineer, and Braulio, who could dress a wound and cook.

This mission bothered Anton. He’d had to talk Filip out of an assassination. Anton never shirked these special assignments though, no matter how onerous, so Filip trusted him.

The clear sky left the night frigid, even for a mountain winter. Anton’s breath fogged the air as he walked between the fortress and the cathedral, waving at the guards set to keep the people back. Their regular uniforms with the fake insignia worked—no one even looked twice.

Anton sauntered on down to the postern gate two-thirds of the way to the stair up onto the mountainside. He knocked on the iron-bound door—it had no outside knob. Moments later the door pushed open from the inside. The guard Anton had bribed peered out then opened the way to let them pass.

Once through the little tunnel, they emerged in the outer courtyard. Maintaining his air of nonchalance, Anton led his men to the right, past the armory and stable, then left through the gate to the inner court and the keep. Again, the guards there didn’t question them. Soldiers in uniform came and went here all the time. Rather than go into the throne room, they went to a corner tower and up two flights.

The King’s Tower stood at the Bergenfastning’s rearmost wall, behind and above the rear part of the throne room. Anton led his men there. Two guards watched outside the council chamber, which sat below the queen’s suite with the king’s suite above that.

Braulio and Loffe hung back while Anton sauntered over. How’s the boredom shift going?

The guard shifted, turning a little to face Anton, even with Anton’s correct uniform. Boring.

The other spoke up. Hey, guarding the king isn’t so bad. At least he notices us.

Tove stepped up beside the first guy, facing out like him. You just stand here and watch? Has anything ever happened?

Meanwhile, Anton sidled up to the second guard. I wouldn’t mind working for the king, I guess. These guards, like Anton’s men once had, felt safe in the fortress and thus relaxed. Plus, Anton and his men looked like regular soldiers, friends.

The first guard grunted as Tove slid a knife into his back. When the second guard turned to look, Anton stabbed him below his breastplate. They never should have let Anton close. They didn’t know him.

Something’s happening now.

Loffe and Braulio dashed up and opened the doors. Anton stabbed his guard up under the chin to finish him. Tove stuck a dagger in the other man’s eye. Loffe and Braulio helped drag the bodies into the council chamber. Remaining outside, those two shut the doors and took up guard posts, in case anyone came by.

Anton paused to check the council chamber. It had a small outer room where pages would wait, but the door to the round chamber itself stood open. Beyond the round table, the far wall had the Jerekson Falcon emblazoned red on black, right next to the door leading to the king’s private stair and Anton’s reason for coming.

Anton wiped the blood off his armor using a rag he’d brought for the purpose. He even had some spares since they all needed to be clean on the way out too. Anton led Tove through the door to the back stair. There he climbed up, taking care not to make so much noise the guards below would investigate.

When Anton reached the door to the queen’s suite, he laid a hand on the latch and leaned close to listen. He stood for a long while until the baby cried.

Turning the latch in time with the exuberant, little voice, Anton couldn’t suppress his grin. He cracked the door but stopped when he heard voices. I’ll change him.

He’ll want to eat after.

Anton held up a finger for Tove to wait. Might as well let them change the boy first. A few moments later, the crying stopped. The first woman started singing, so Anton peeked around the door. The nursemaid sat on a temporary cot, facing away from him. The other woman paced with the baby in the room beyond. Slipping in, Anton had his hand over the nursemaid’s mouth before she could make a sound.

Tove dashed for the other woman who had walked out of sight. When she came back, attention on the baby, Tove stepped up behind her and covered her mouth too. Anton waggled his knife at the two women. Everyone be quiet, and you’ll survive. First, give up the baby.

The woman with the kid shook her head, but Tove’s hand muffled her words. Then again, it didn’t matter what she said. Anton had a job to do, he’d given his word to Filip that he would bring the young prince. He had talked Prince Filip into kidnapping rather than assassination, but Anton had a job to do. He gave a hand signal, but Tove hesitated.

Why, oh why, did he bring Tove? Did the man not see that the woman wouldn’t give up the child? Did he not understand they were at war? Anton had to have the little prince.

Angry, Anton got the nursemaid to her feet and walked her into the other room. Give us the baby.

The woman turned her shoulders to move the boy out of reach. Anton stabbed her in the side. She squeaked, but held the baby tighter. Anton slipped the knife into her a couple more times, twisting the blade.

As the woman slumped, her life flowing away, she handed the baby to the nursemaid.

Tove let the woman drop to the floor where she breathed her last. Damn, Anton.

Ignoring his idiot charge, Anton drew a deep breath. I’m going to let go. If you make a noise, I’ll have to kill you too. Will you be quiet?

The nursemaid nodded, so he released his hold.

What do you want? she asked.

We’re here to take the little prince, of course. Anton wiped his hands and arm clean on the second rag. Now give him to me. I won’t hurt him.

The nursemaid hesitated until she glanced at the other woman’s body. With great reluctance, she handed Anton the baby.

Anton took the squirming bundle with care and looked down into the little face. You are such a handsome little guy. Don’t you worry. We’ll have a nice long ride in the cold, but your nurse will come too. I give you my word, nothing bad will happen to you. Uncle Anton will care for you.

He hadn’t been able to protect Sonja, but he’d been a kid. Now he could do better. He would do better. This boy had done nothing to anyone, and deserved to live.

When Anton looked up, both Tove and the nursemaid stared at him. He ignored them. Get what you need to travel—cloak, fur for the baby, diapers and the like. We are leaving now.

The woman bit her lip and considered. She nodded before bustling around the room. In the end, Tove had a new pack with baby things, and the nursemaid had the queen’s travel clothes on, albeit some of the plainer ones. Anton kept Prince Karlis for himself, figuring the nursemaid would be more cooperative if she thought the boy might be in danger.

When they had the pack together, they walked out the way they came. Anton had chosen the council room door because the roving guards checked it less often. On the way out, they had to leave the door unguarded and hope no one came across it too soon.

They walked down through the castle and no one challenged them.

When they opened the huge main door from the keep to the inner court, the cold air hit them like a sledgehammer. Even with the fur wrapped around the boy, Anton worried for the baby. It did hide him, though.

They walked through the inner court, out the open gate, and turned right past the quiet stables and smithy.

At the postern gate, Anton paused to pay the traitor guard. As the man ogled the two gold soberans, Anton signaled Tove, who drove his knife through the back of the man’s neck into his brain. The traitor jerked and shook before falling and lying still. Men who don’t keep their own word can’t be trusted. He had Loffe retrieve the coins, and they shut the postern gate but couldn’t lock it.

Crossing the passage between the two buildings over to the cathedral side, Anton sang a hymn. His men joined in. They’d taken pains to learn it.

When they reached the opening out into the valley, the guards keeping back those holding vigil looked askance at Anton’s little group.

Anton clapped one on the shoulder. We’re off duty, heading into town. The guard frowned, but they kept people out, not in. The vigilant had moved over to the bonfires now, where priests led hymns to keep them warm, leaving the way clear.

Turning right, past the door into the Vittsten Katedral, Anton’s crew walked uphill around the cathedral and the complex where the priests lived and worked. All the while, the cold seeped through their cloaks and boots. The hairs in Anton’s nose froze.

Beyond the buildings lay a garden with statues and pine trees trimmed to wondrous shapes, now with snow and ice as added decoration. A low stone wall surrounded it, little more than a curb amid the white drifts, but the garden rose up the mountain’s foot until it reached bare rock. There some artist had carved likenesses into the cliff.

The road up the valley curved left, but Anton took the smaller, packed-down path to the right. A little frozen stream lay beside the trail as it wound up into what looked like a black wall. When they reached it, however, it turned out to be fir trees, tall and close-packed so only a few inches of snow lay beneath them—the Night Grove.

Once under the branches, going got slower because they could no longer see. A horse whinnied nearby, and Anton relaxed. From here, they had to traverse the high mountains in winter. No problem at all.

Not far into the grove, they found a dark rock on the snowy path and turned off into the woods. There Staffan and a woman waited with the horses. Anton went to the woman first.

Fishing beneath his cloak, he brought out four silver kronas, the amount he’d promised for the whole trip. Thank you for coming, but your services will not be required.

Anton figured a nursemaid the boy knew, and who knew the boy, would be better.

The woman looked relieved, and he’d paid her the full amount agreed upon. Not having to travel the High Road in winter would relieve anyone.

Anton let Karlis’s nursemaid hold the baby while he mounted. What’s your name?

The woman didn’t look up. Neves. As soon as she said it, the boy cried. He must eat. I need a sheltered spot and a blanket.

Frustrated, Anton dismounted and did as she asked. It wouldn’t do to have the kid crying. Besides, he rather liked Prince Karlis and how the boy snuggled into his arm as Anton carried him.

The waiting worried him though, so close to the Bergenfastning. Does everyone have their amulet? Anton wore his—a polished black rock on a gold chain.

When all his men produced theirs, he let them have water and hardtack. While they waited, they removed their armor—steel in the high mountains didn’t hold heat in, so off it came. As soon as the nursemaid finished and wrapped the baby up again, Anton handed her an amulet.

Neves looked askance at it. What does that do? Does it show truth like the haug prasta’s?

Anton hadn’t even considered it when Galen gave these to him. No, it lets us into the Vale of Stars.

Neves glanced toward the Vale, a little frightened, but she took the chain and put it around her neck. While wizards helped the people, the Vale of Stars remained a mystery to most.

Anton had a little amulet he put around the baby’s neck too. After mounting up, Anton took the baby and put him into a sling under the furs. The squad headed out again, deeper into the trees toward the Vale of Stars.

When they cleared the grove, Anton felt a pressure on his skin. It crawled across his chest until it reached the amulet. Then the resistance shattered, as Galen had said, and Anton went on.

A small building on the left held wizards watching the passage during the day, in case someone needed in. At night, the wizards trusted their magic to keep people out.

Before them a narrow, winding defile opened. Houses and larger buildings built from the black mountain’s stone nestled against cliffs and anywhere the black rock protruded from trees or soil. They looked like someone had melted and reformed the rock. No one stirred and no lanterns or candles shone from the windows here in the wee hours. Any who remained awake would be near the bonfires or up in the tower itself. Starlight on snow lit their way.

Ten minutes later, they reached a branching trail to the left and turned there. It was snow-packed but level, for a little way. Ahead, a towering cliff loomed. The trail took a hard turn to the right and started up.

The snow also petered out, leaving dry stone underfoot. The wizards kept it clear, or so Filip said. Anton looked up at the cliff as it faded into the black night, and he felt weary in his bones. He glanced at Neves, wondering how she would do on this frigid winter trek.

They dismounted and led the horses. Anton had Staffan tie Tove’s mount, and the nursemaid’s, together with his. That let Tove help the nursemaid up the winding, narrow path. Anton gave his own horse to Loffe so he could keep two hands on the little prince.

Cliffs above them on one side and dropped off with no railing or lip on the other.

Part way up, the little prince generated a stink, but Anton smiled. He rather appreciated the boy’s timing, letting go when Anton could not stop.

It took a harrowing hour to reach the top, a thousand feet and twenty switchbacks from where they started. The wizard’s vale had vanished into darkness, making the precipice worse.

When they crested the cliff, Anton breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Neves let out a joyful laugh. A little sheltered cleft there kept them out of sight and out of the wind too. Anton let them all rest. They took water and jerk beef while Neves changed the diaper and fed Karlis. Even with the horses crowding in, the cold overpowered the warmth, so Anton called for them to mount up.

Above them and around the corner from the little cleft, a tower for watching the stars rose heavenward. There a candle burned in the window, dim and alone, but two people moved on the top level. With the snow muffling the horse’s hooves, Anton signaled for silence. If these wizards heard, they wouldn’t know to keep silent.

Near this astronomy tower, walls had been built on the trail’s sides, which kept snow from tumbling in. A dozen yards beyond, the walls ended and they had to climb up a snow bank to get to the icy trail. The wind blasted them from the east, picking up hard snow, stinging what little skin Anton had left exposed. The trail curved off a little north, but soon descended a gentle slope.

There, in a shallow depression, lay the High Road. Filip said it had been used a great deal in the days when Palua occupied the lowlands. Now shepherds and occasional miners or merchants seeking the high villages ventured onto it, no one else.

Anton pushed them northward for another hour. At last, they reached a satthut—a little building beside the road to shelter travelers. When they walked in and shut the winter out, the entire crew relaxed, complaining about the cold and weariness. There, as the dawn turned the sky gray beyond the high peaks, they built a fire and slept for a few hours.

Sleep eluded Anton for a while as in his mind, the lonesome, frigid road stretched out before them. They had to go to Dom Sten’s stronghold in Merkgangen province, the far northern end of Dendalen, to meet Filip.

Chapter 2: The Queen’s Wrath

In his dream, King Magnus walked burning fields. What had happened to destroy the crops? Searching high and low, he came face to face with himself. His other self tried to hit him, so Magnus punched back. Where their feet landed, the ground split open. Cavalry trampled crops.

Magnus turned, and stood on a mountain slope where goats bleated, but the shepherds moaned in hunger. Looking down the valley, he saw miners pulling ore from the ground, but there it sat in piles. Worried, Magnus looked out onto the plains and found himself on the quays in Riva Travess. Boats there sat high and dry, burned or holed. Behind him riots flowed through the city streets. In all of it, though, he could find no enemy. Who had done this?

As all this happened, the bright child he’d seen in every dream marched out with his army toward the darkness on the steppes, but the strife and fighting in Dendalen overtook the child and he faded away. Darkness covered the land.

Magnus stood on the steps outside The Cave of Days and looked down. In the dream, he could see the Vale of Stars through the mountain. Wizards stood balanced over an abyss with black, green, and purple flames licking at their feet. To the right, at the Bergenfastning, guards rushed here and there like angry hornets. A small group of guards dashed away east while others ran to the Dalgang Muir.

Magnus woke with a start. By the dream.

With the dream echoing in his head, demanding to be told, Magnus rolled from beneath the covers. This morning, the worry about what had happened at the Bergenfastning felt stronger. Magnus hurried through dressing—black surcoat with the Jerekson Falcon in red, and a gold circlet—and descended the tower stairs. One floor down, Carlota waited at the landing.

Magnus offered his arm and they walked down together. The strong foreboding left from the dreaming shook his soul. He did not tell Carlota yet, and she did not ask. The telling followed rules, and it could not be done otherwise.

When they reached the bottom, Carlota stepped back by the wall to listen. Magnus walked to the front of the low dais and waited.

Galen and Ulf, high wizard and high priest, took out their Sansten amulets and held them overhead. Let true words be spoken here, they said in unison.

Magnus raised his hands. Valjar has been gracious and granted us the dream to guide us for another year. Before he began, however, he turned to the assembled who stood vigil. Was the dreaming pure and clean?

The other three priests answered, Yes.

Those holding vigil nodded their agreement. A few years back, that young priest, Asmund, had thought of adding the Renheramsa, the purity chant to the rite. He’d been tasked with finding out if Magnus had somehow corrupted the dream, and having those holding vigil sing and experience the Renheramsa seemed a small change at the time. Now it seemed huge, but it also meant the ceremony could change and still work. What had to remain and what could be left out?

Magnus surveyed the assembly one more time, dreading their reaction to his dire prophecies. This year will bring trouble and strife for all. The dream foretells fire and bloodshed, but I could not find the source. No armies invaded. Look to your flocks, crops, and mines. Make sure all is in good order. You wizards, however, have not chosen whether to rise to the light or descend to the darkness. Your doom will find you this year. Some among you must turn from their current path or all will fail. Magnus raised his hands again. Such is the dreaming for this year. Let all listen and prosper.

Galen and Ulf each breathed on the Sansten amulets, and with a glance and nod to each other said, The dreaming is true. Let all who hear heed and obey. Galen, however, looked troubled, but not as troubled as Magnus.

My people, the queen and I are needed below. Follow as best you can. Taking Carlota’s hand, Magnus grabbed their cloaks from hooks by the door and rushed down the little stair into the Cave of Days with its still, dark pool. He barreled out into blinding sunshine on snow as his guards scrambled to keep up.

Magnus, what’s wrong? Carlota’s breath came in gasps.

I don’t know. Something evil has happened in the Bergenfastning, but I could not see other than the darkness.

At those words, Carlota squeezed his gloved hand. "Karlis?

I don’t know. I saw many, unhappy guards. He hurried, even on the icy path, and Carlota moved even faster.

It took over an hour to descend the winding, steep trail past the snow caves where offerings had been given. Normally this day held feasts and celebrations of the dreaming, a full day of ceremony and ritual. As they drew closer, they could see the guard on the wall had been doubled and soldiers surrounded the people keeping vigil. Magnus’s heart sank. What would cause his men to act that way?

When they emerged from the stair between the fortress and cathedral, an infantry patrol met them, looking grave. Magnus stopped, hands on hips. What has happened?

The sergeant shook his head. Captain Pio will report, Your Majesty. He led the king and queen to the front gate at a fast clip. The king’s guard caught up with them, out of breath from the race down the mountain.

Through the main gate, which faced northeast, they went left and into the lesser gate to the inner court. There four guards opened the steel doors and let them into the keep. Snow-blind, Magnus struggled to see in the dim corridor.

Someone came forward and clattered to his knees before them. Your Majesty, I have failed you. I should be hanged.

Magnus recognized his guard captain’s voice. Captain Pio, before we discuss hanging, rise and tell us what has occurred.

Pio stayed on his knees. Your Majesty, Prince Karlis has been kidnapped.

Magnus staggered. Kidnapped? How? The Bergenfastning had guards and sentries everywhere. How had kidnappers gotten in and out again? The guards had failed to guard. Now he did want to hang Pio, but not yet. Magnus put a hand on Carlota’s arm before she rushed off to her rooms. Tell us what you know.

RAGE BURNED IN CARLOTA. This man and his charges had failed her, failed to protect Karlis, protect them all. She wanted to hang him, or beat him, or stab him. Karlis kidnapped? How could that be? A knot formed in her chest, like the worry carrying Karlis after all her miscarriages. She’d worked so hard and hoped so long before she birthed him.

Pio rose. Come. He led them back toward the throne room. First we discovered the guards outside the council room missing. Now we know four soldiers with the Bergenfastning infantry battalion insignia entered through the postern gate. The guard there had been paid off to let them in.

Are you sure they were soldiers? Carlota asked with clenched fists.

Pio looked startled, as if that hadn’t occurred to him. No, we are not. We know they slew the guards at the council room door and went up the tower stair. There Pio stopped as four new guards opened the throne room doors. The black stone tingled beneath Carlota’s soles as her boots clattered across the floor.

At the back, they slipped into the king’s ready chamber—the tower’s bottom floor. Carlota glanced at the secret door there leading to the caves beneath the Skalletberg. This whole back wall of the keep had been carved from living stone so no army could breach it. Rufa, Neves, and Luzia all knew of this place. They knew to bring Karlis here in case of trouble. These villains must have surprised them.

Pio led them up the stairs past the council chamber to the queen’s quarters without saying more. At the door, he stopped, hand on the latch. I’m sorry, my queen. He looked like he wanted to say more but instead opened the door.

Two guards stood inside, and Luzia sat on the floor in the second room beside a body. Carlota dashed over. Rufa lay on the floor, unmoving. She had stab wounds and blood pooled all around.

Carlota’s legs would no longer hold her up. She fell to her knees staring. Rufa?

She reached to touch her servant’s face and hair. Rufa couldn’t be dead. She’d been with Carlota since... since...forever. They’d kidnapped her Karlis and killed her maid. Carlota threw her head back and shrieked in grief and rage.

Magnus came over and knelt beside her, wrapped his arms around her. She laid her head on his shoulder. Oh, Magnus, I lost another baby.

No, not this time. This time someone took him. Magnus turned his head. How do we know the prince is alive?

Carlota held her breath as she waited for an answer. Pio stepped closer. Four soldiers and one woman left by the postern gate and made their way through the crowd. The same four men, as near as we can tell, taking your maid Neves with them. They would have no need of her if the prince did not live.

Luzia stirred. My Lady, once my tears ended, I saw things here.

What did you see?

Carlota’s maid, once a prostitute, continued to amaze her. Luzia had many times proven Magnus wise for choosing her, and Rufa for training her.

The towel. She pointed at Rufa’s shoulder where a towel had fallen to the floor. And the diaper. A soiled diaper lay near Karlis’s crib. I think Rufa changed the prince to spare Neves. When the men came, she wouldn’t give Karlis to them, so they killed her.

Luzia’s tone caught Carlota’s attention. Her eyes narrowed. What would you have done?

Luzia deflated. How could she not know? I’d have gone with them, with the prince, to never let him out of my sight. Neves did.

Carlota loved her practical, ruthless maid. You are right. She should have gone with them. How do you know Neves did?

Luzia pointed at the