Both girls jumped to their feet. Cora's face burned but she tried her best to shake off the heat that burned within her.
When Harriet and Leah came asking Cora to drag Maren out of her room, Twelve had just finished speaking to Cora about the twisted fate of the Ruby Princess. So, when they asked her to spend time with Maren, Cora enthusiastically agreed, though she didn't express her eagerness. In recent days, they hadn't had much time to talk, let alone simply be.
And after hearing that, Cora needed some fun.
She hadn't planned to kiss her — especially not in such a way.
No, that wasn't the plan at all.
Cora had wanted to talk and fight and let off some steam. She hadn't expected that it would turn so intimate so quickly.
Cora's body blazed at the memory, a different kind of pressure building within her that she desperately needed to cool down. She ran her hands through her hair in frustration.
She had to focus and deal with the matter at hand, and to do that, she needed to stop thinking about what she'd just done.
Nobody was supposed to be in the area except one of the Knights who she'd trusted. And though she had prepared some level of privacy for them, Cora had been so entangled in the moment, she hadn't considered that others were in the hall.
Ever since she learned about that thing running around the area, she made sure Commander Vincent, Harriet's husband, and the only man Cora truly trusted, was near at all times. Though he was a Commander, she had the authority to request his presence during the trials. She was lucky he accompanied them to Forsyth when she submitted the request.
Cora moved to the door, pushing through.
"Princess Cora," Commander Vincent said, "I did just as you asked and stayed put to guard the door, but this person seemed… suspicious."
"Suspicious how?" Cora asked, narrowing her eyes.
"It was a woman wearing a maid's uniform, but she wore a hooded cloak, and I could not see her face. I knew she was not one of our maids," Vincent explained. "And when I asked her what she was doing near the princesses' quarters, she scurried off like a scared rat."
Cora averted her eyes in thought.
Only a few maids were allowed entry to this hall. The Forsythian soldiers were in charge of upkeep in the training room. There was no reason for a maid to be in the area. Cora considered that perhaps she was sneaking in to meet someone, but even that didn't feel right.
And for a maid to be sneaking around during a storm, while the halls were this dark, was odd.
"What's wrong?" Maren asked, stepping beside her.
"A possible intruder," Cora sighed. Then, she turned to Commander Vincent. "Please have a few of our men search the castle for anyone who looks suspicious. In secret of course — I don't want the Forsythian guards alerted. But first, we need to make it back to our quarters."
She gazed down the empty hall, a lightning strike illuminating the desolate shadows for but a moment. Her gut twisted in fear.
"We need to go fast," she said. "Gather your men down the hall."
Cora turned but then stopped abruptly.
She turned back, her eyes piercing Vincent, mustering every bit of authority and seriousness that she could. "And under no circumstances are any of you to be harmed. If one of you suffers even a small cut, I want the soldier isolated and heavily guarded. Warn your men to stay in groups and have two of them warn Thirteen as well. I'm sure she will have more orders."
He frowned at the confusing orders but did not question her.
"Yes, Princess," he saluted and moved down the hall, and out the door to grab his men.
Cora had a bad feeling ever since the night she used the Dreamstone. It was a dread in the pit of her stomach that wouldn't let up. Her moment with Maren allowed her some reprieve but her nights had been restless.
Like the goddess herself was telling her not to let her guard down.
And even this…
It was probably nothing but —
Cora's hand found her navel, and the restless churning behind it.
— But if it wasn't nothing, Cora wasn't willing to take that chance. Not after seeing that monstrosity. Not with all the royal representatives in the castle. And certainly not with Maren there.
Cora turned to Maren, who gazed up at her with big azure eyes full of concern.
No, Cora would not take that chance.
"Maren," Cora began, taking her hand, "let's talk in my room when we get there."
She noted the softness of her hand, and the way it fit perfectly in her own. Cora hadn't realized she trembled slightly — not until her hand steadied in the comfort of Maren's grip. She was scared, though she wouldn't admit it to herself.
But even though the halls of Forsyth were dark and full of terrors, Cora knew she could make her way through them, as long as Maren was by her side.
***
The Commander did his duty.
He led the Princesses safely down the hallways and back into their quarters. Him and his men searched each of the rooms thoroughly, ensuring no wicked surprises lurked.
The area seemed safe, but a churning in his stomach told him to remain on guard. Harriet always told him to trust in the Ruby Princesses instincts, even when she was but a child. When he received her orders, though they struck him as odd, he did not question them. And as they made their way down the desolate halls of the castle, he realized just how right his wife was.
Because the hallways were just that.
Desolate.
No guards or maids.
No Forsythian royals or foreign representatives.
The castle seemed empty. And during a courting trial, that should not be the case. The whole situation set him on edge. Something was wrong.
As soon as he confirmed their wing was safe, he sent his Knights to scour the castle, wandering down hallways, reporting to other Knights of the Empire. They moved through the dark, ancient halls like rats in a maze.
He warned his men, if they were stopped by Forsythian soldiers, to simply explain that they were lost. Usually, that would get them out of a simple predicament.
Commander Vincent waited patiently at the Princesses door for word from his men, a young Knight at his side.
Then, two guards rounded the corner.
"Commander," he said, keeping his voice low as he approached. "You were right about the halls being empty. The others were as well. But the closer we moved to the Royal quarters, the stranger things became."
"Go on," Commander Vincent said, straightening his posture as he listened.
"The door to Princess Selma's wing was wide open, and the area was ransacked. Though, there was no blood," the Knight continued. "As we ventured closer to the royal quarters, there were…odd sounds."
"What kind of sounds?" Vincent asked, his eyes narrowing.
"I don't know. Like…something wet, and a distant howl that sounded wrong," he answered. "I had my men pull back to report to you before we went in."
"That was best," Commander Vincent nodded. "Have you heard from the team sent to the Court Members?"
The Knight grimaced and shook his head.
Commander Vincent lifted his head.
Tonight, he knew there would be an attack on the Princesses.
"Send another small team and bring any court members here," he said. "Everyone else is to be posted at both the east and west entrance to the Princesses wing. Inform the men to expect battle. There will be no rest tonight."
"Yes, Commander," the Knight said, standing at attention.
Commander Vincent turned to face the door, readying himself to deliver bad news to the Princesses, when suddenly a voice cried out down the hall.
"Commander!" Thirteen yelled, her clothes torn and her hair disheveled.
Vincent turned, fast, meeting her halfway down the hall.
Her golden light illuminated the darkness of the halls, her eyes wide with fear.
"It's Twelve!" She cried out, her chest heaving, trying to catch her breath. "Your men fought them off, enough that me and the others had time to escape. But Twelve could not run. They took her!"
"Who?" Vincent asked, resting his hand on her shoulder.
"The Forsythian Knights," she answered, breathlessly. "They're infected by the Darkspirit!"
***
Through the castle halls, buried in a dark, locked room, surrounded by guards, Twelve worked her hands.
The stone glowed, bright violet at its core, but surrounding it was a yellow tinge.
The color of magic was not determined by the type of magic, but rather magic that was personal to a single person. And that was the same for the Starblessed as well, though their colors were often of the richest variety.
Twelve's blue was deeper than her mothers, the previous Sapphire Queen. The room was filled with light, yet still somehow dark.
She leaned over the stone which sat on her desk, using elongated needles made of Inahian silver from the mines in the North. These prongs were engraved with markings of a language she never truly learned. Donovan Vanburry, the previous One of the Court, and the son of the last Ruby Princess had given these relics to her before he passed.
They were one of the five magic relics left in the empire, forged by him — her mentor.
Twelve had been in her room for hours since she'd left Cora, reading Donovan's old journals on magic, and scouring her memory for anything on Dreamstones and overlapping magic. She hadn't practiced in many years and was truly never talented at it. But right now, she was the only one that truly understood magic in concept and would have to sharpen her skills if it meant protecting the girls.
She prodded the stone once more, doing her best to trace a dispel magic marking in her makeshift ink. With a mix of herbs and properties, this was her last good idea to rid the stone of the scrying spell.
Whoever had cast this magic upon the stone did so because they themselves could not withstand such a magic. But they could, if it was filtered through the magic of a Starblessed.
As she finished the marking, the stone glowed bright, flooding the room in a murky yellow color.
Twelve's eyes widened.
Did I… she thought.
But then, the magic energy surged and fizzled, back to its normal state.
Twelve huffed a sigh and laid back in her chair.
"What am I to do now?" She muttered to herself.
"Is there anything I can do ma'am?" Ethan spoke up, his voice cutting through the silence.
He was so quiet, she almost forgot her boy-maid was behind her reading through Donovan's books.
"No, child," she answered. "Worry not and keep reading."
She could not rightly give the girls the stone back when she knew someone else peered through the fabric of dreams. Not when their intentions were so unclear.
Eventually, the girls would be wanting the stone back. They'd want to uncover secrets of their past. Before the Starblessed were princesses. Before they were exalted as royals.
Twelve crossed her arms over her chest and huffed.
Suddenly, a knock came at the door.
Her head turned in question.
It was a lazy knock.
Like the hand had little strength in it.
"Yes?" She called back, not bothering to answer the door. Whoever it was could ask her through the door. She was in no mood to see anyone.
Twelve waited, and when no answer came, Ethan lifted himself from his chair.
Twelve's arm shot out from beside her, gesturing for him to stop. The boy stopped in his tracks, blinking in question.
Then, the door handle shook, aggressively.
Dread dropped in her stomach like rocks, but there was no time to feel fear. Twelve snatched the stone from her desk and wrapped it back up in the charmed fabric. She turned to Ethan, and with her other hand, gripped his shoulder.
"Take this and escape through the window," she whispered, shoving the wrapped object into the boy's hands. "Get to the Princesses rooms as fast as you can. Even if they aren't there — hide and wait."
"But–" he started but was cut off.
"Now," Twelve hissed, her eyes like blue devils' flames.
Ethan peered up at her with big, scared eyes.
The boy was young, but he was old enough to understand something was very wrong. And as the force on the other side of the door turned into wild pounding and screeching, animalistic sounds, Twelve knew there was little time.
"Yes ma'am," Ethan whispered through teary eyes.
Twelve watched as he scurried out the window, onto the rooftops. She knew his journey to their wing would be dangerous — perhaps perilous. When she found that her living quarters were so far from the Princesses, she felt something was odd. She chalked it up to the size of the castle, but now she knew this was premeditated.
She steeled herself and turned to face whatever creature raged on the other side of the door.