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For a week, I’d lost myself in the greenery of the plants, ignoring the fact that my memory had failed me, but in one terrifying sentence, my predicament had all come flooding back. I was still abandoned without a history or family, without anyone looking for me, living a lie in the castle under Zen’s protection, wasn’t I?
It felt like the longer I stayed in the castle, the more questions I had.
A short rapping on the exterior door finally shattered my looping reverie, and I rushed across the vast sitting room to answer it, almost tripping over the chaise lounge as I did. I stopped to catch my breath and clear my mind before pulling the handle and opening the door.
Zen stood at the threshold, his usual two guards behind him, along with two other Royal Guards on either side of the door, staring straight ahead as if the king wasn’t there. The ones flanking the doorway were for me, but they weren’t my normal guards.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
I swallowed and looked at his security nervously, but I nodded. I was in no position to deny him entry.
He immediately caught my expression. “They don’t have to come,” he added, hardly turning his chin toward them.
I stepped back to allow him through, leaving all four guards in the hallway and securing the door behind Zen. I didn’t admit it aloud, but I was relieved to see him alive and accounted for—not that I had been worried about his powers against the unexpected faeries.
“How are you settling in?” he asked, glancing uneasily around the sitting area like he was uncomfortable being in the room.
Being in his mother’s room must stir up a lot of memories for him.
“Never mind me,” I insisted. “What’s going on down there?”
“Nothing—anymore. It’s been handled like always.”
I wasn’t sure what that meant or if I liked the sound of it, but I asked about the princess first. I hadn’t been able to get her out of my head. “And your sister?”
“Cyndella has been… tended to,” he sighed, sitting on one of the overstuffed wing chairs and folding his hands in front of him. “Again.”
Conflicted over which matter to deal with first, I started with his sister. “Is she all right?”
“Define ‘all right.’” Zen scoffed. “She hasn’t been ‘all right’ since our mother was murdered. She doesn’t trust strangers—and neither do I.”
“Murdered?” I echoed.
He eyed me purposefully, and I gulped, perching on the edge of the chaise. His actions and words contradicted one another. If he didn’t trust me, why was he putting me in this highly secure room? And he spoke to me so candidly, like he was talking to an old friend.
Again, like he was reading my thoughts, he went on. “Do you know about the dark fae who attacked? About Agnan?”
A cold chill rushed down my back, but my mind was completely blank.
Do I know about Agnan? Why do I feel like I know that name?
I thought about how I had recalled the dark faeries as I’d cowered under the table during the attack. Something had tickled the back of my mind there, but what?
“Mirielle, do you know?” Zen demanded again, leaning in closer to take in my expression closely.
“No,” I replied truthfully. I had no solid information to give him. “Should I? Is that who murdered the queen?”
Zen grimaced and stood, my query clearly making him uncomfortable.
“You should know about Agnan. Yes.” He didn’t answer the part about whether this fae murdered his mother. “Every fae should know about the Order of the Souls and the dark magic they use. You should know how they’ve bonded together to overthrow the kings in Mystara. It’s common knowledge.”
I tasted the frustration in him, and a fusion of my own consternation and sadness twisted through me.
“I don’t know who they are. Where did they come from?”
“Agnan runs them now,” Zen informed me coldly. “But they’ve been around since the world split into three continents.”
I didn’t know how to respond.
