Arcadia’s face pales. For a moment she simply stares at Marcus Magnotto in disbelief.

“What about Tariq?” she asks.

“The Prince Tariq is no more. The Sultan and Sultana as well, I’m afraid.”

Grief sinks into her expression slowly. Her mouth hangs open, and I see the corners of her eyes begin to tear up. Marcus, meanwhile, watches her with slightly narrowed eyes.

“Who was he to you?” he asks.

In an instant I perceive the danger of the situation. A Prince isn’t usually friends with a common vagabond girl, Sorceress or not. If Arcadia says the wrong thing here, it might reveal too much to our Ecean friend. I move my hand beneath the table, finding Arcadia’s leg and giving it a light squeeze. A moment later she lays her hand on mine, and when I glance her way I find her staring down at her wineglass.

“He was a friend, from a long time ago,” she says, in a small voice.

It’s quiet for a moment. The look on Marcus’s face tells me he suspects something, but he isn’t ready to say it aloud just yet. He just watches Arcadia, who appears to be too upset about the passing of her friend to worry about it. The silence is pregnant with tension.

“It really is you, isn’t it,” says Marcus.

His words make Arcadia raise an eyebrow, and look at him curiously. His eyes are still narrowed, but a small smile forms on his lips.

“The night of Belina’s party. What happened out in her gardens. I thought Cyrus Cato was a lunatic, saying the things he said. But he wasn’t, was he?”

Arcadia’s eyes widen. As do mine. I remember worrying over whether that man recognized Arcadia’s old face, and apparently he did. Her gaze darts back to her wineglass as she begins chewing her lower lip, quite obviously mulling over what to say. I find myself considering it as well; On one hand she could tell the truth, which would thumb her nose at mother. On the other, making it known that Arcadia the Sorceress was once the Prince of Ecea could make it harder for us to move around freely.

She appears to make her choice, sitting up a little straighter in her seat, fixing her attention on Marcus once more as if she were giving testimony in court.

“Yes,” she says. “I used to be called Arcadius.”

Marcus Magnotto’s expression doesn’t change. He just watches Arcadia, a fingertip tapping idly on the side of his wineglass.

“You know, my sister and I never got the chance to properly thank you for your excellent performance that night,” he says.

Arcadia shrugs. "It was nothing. Just a night of fun."

He raises his cup to his lips, finishing what’s left in there. Then he reaches for the decanter to pour himself another glass. “Oh it was much more than nothing, I assure you. I’m sure you’re aware, most of our countrymen don’t take much stock in the supernatural. You gave them something to think about that night.”

When he’s finished pouring, he grins and raises his glass to her. The sleeve of his tunic slides back a bit, revealing half of that long scar on his hairy forearm. “And ah… As for those few of us who know who you really are, we have things to think about too, don’t we.”

She tilts her head to the side a few degrees, like a confused puppy, and he laughs.

“Your mother’s allies are numerous, Princess Arcadia, but so are her enemies,” he says. “If you were to return to Ecea, the Magnottos would back your claim to the throne of the Empire. As would several other families.”

“But the Emperor and Empress would have to die before there’s any need for a succession,” says Arcadia.

Marcus’s grin doesn’t waver. “Why yes, I suppose they would.”

Her eyes widen again, as if the possibility of deposing her parents never actually occurred to her. Watching it dawn on her gives me a warm feeling in my chest, and I smirk, realizing she’s so pure of heart that a forcible coup is an entirely new idea in her mind. Arcadia’s shock seems to subside, and when it’s gone there’s a small frown on her face.

“I don’t know what to say,” she says.

“If I had to guess,” says Marcus. “You left Ecea to get out from under your mother’s thumb. Which, in itself, is an understandable goal. But there are many who cannot. If you came back to us, there are many you could help.”

Arcadia’s eyes harden a little. Perhaps she senses that Marcus is trying to butter her up. “Even if I wanted to do that, you’re talking about murdering my parents.”

“Is there any love lost?” asks Marcus. Arcadia frowns, but doesn’t answer.

Marcus watches her expressions change, a paternal smile on his face. He has another taste of wine, then sets his glass on the table. “Sometimes we must be ruthless. It isn’t pleasant, but that’s the way the world is. Certain people stand between a better world and us, and we have to forget our conscience for a moment.”

“You should never forget your conscience.”

Marcus’s smile grows. “You see why we favor you?”

The frown on Arcadia’s face weakens. She seems to be searching her mind for a counter-argument, but she doesn’t find one. Eventually she sighs and has a sip of wine herself.

“You’ve given me a lot to think about,” she says. “But I won’t be able to say yes or no to such a thing for now. I have other concerns I need to attend to first.”

The doors at the end of the dining room open just then, making way for a procession of robed servants bearing food on shining silver plates. I sit back so one can put a plate down in front of me, while others load the center of the table with trays of steaming rice, vegetables, spicy-smelling meats and curries. Enough food for a small army, and it all looks delectable. After three weeks aboard The Dove, it’s a welcome sight indeed. If I could, I’d eat this whole table.

I probably could. But that wouldn’t be courteous.

Marcus continues to watch Arcadia while the servants set the table. “What concerns are those, if you don’t mind my asking?”

A stricken expression crosses her face, perhaps as she remembers Tariq isn’t with us anymore. “My studies,” she says.

“Ah. The magic?”

Arcadia nods.

“Well I’d be glad to assist you in any way, if it’s possible for me to do so.”

She frowns at him again, before leaning over to serve herself some rice and vegetables. “I don’t know that you could, but I appreciate the offer.”

Marcus nods and smiles graciously. For now he lets the matter rest, and we all enjoy the meal in front of us without much conversation. It’s very good. A small part of me wants her to take up Marcus on his offer, just so we can eat like this all the time. I feel a little pang of guilt at the thought afterward, but hey, it’s just a thought. No harm done. Arcadia, meanwhile, seems to have a great deal on her mind. She picks at her food, a faraway look in her eyes.

Suduk Za-Ziquni comes down to check on us when we’re about midway through our meal, which makes Arcadia wake up a bit and offer her wholehearted thanks. I do so as well, but before he can return to his business a question leaps to the front of my mind.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” I say to Suduk. “Does the assassination of the royal family have anything to do with the way Arcadia and I were welcomed when we arrived here?”

Suduk’s eyebrows rise, and he trades a meaningful look with Marcus.

“The people suspect the Sultan, Sultana and Prince were killed by Ecean hands,” says Marcus.

“But why would they do such a thing?” I ask. “I thought Aleria and Ecea were allies.”

“Trade partners,” Marcus replies. “And the Empress has been making matters worse here for some time. Things began amicably enough, but she’s been imposing heavier taxes on Alerian exports every year.”

Arcadia frowns. “She’s squeezing them.”

Marcus nods in answer. “Correct. She knows it isn’t fair, but she has the Imperial Navy at her command. Under the present conditions, it’s only a matter of time before it comes to war, and we all know how that will go.”

“All she’s doing is waiting for Aleria to make the first move. So they’ll be considered the instigator. Then after she wins the war, she can either conquer Aleria or crush it. It’s exactly what she would do,” says Arcadia.

That makes me cock an eyebrow. “But if she were responsible for the murder of the royal family, I’m fairly sure you could call that ‘being the instigator,’” I say.

Suduk Za-Ziqni smiles at that, and nods. “You are right. The Empress of Ecea is a suspect, but wiser minds are not so quick to point the finger. The trouble is, all of the merchant guilds and trading houses in Aleria have been quite loud in their condemnation of the Eceans. And the people have eaten it up, and asked for a second helping.”

“But… If it wasn’t the Empress, who else could it have been?”

Our host glances out of the dining room for a moment, a rueful kind of look on his face. Maybe he’s regretting coming down to check on our dinner. But then he smiles again and returns his attention to us, walking over to the table and having a seat.

“There are some who suggest it was the merchants themselves,” says Suduk, as he pours himself a glass of wine. “Their motive is the easiest to comprehend. It is their purses the Eceans are cutting open, after all.”

“Did the killers leave any evidence?” I ask.

Suduk smiles sadly. “In a manner of speaking. But what the evidence shows us… Well, it makes it seem less likely that the merchants were involved. And the implications of that are even more troubling.”

Arcadia and I both stare at Suduk, uncomprehending, and he chuckles a bit.

“They were killed in their beds,” he says. “Their throats cut, all three.”

Once again I see the color drain out of Arcadia’s face. She turns her gaze to her plate, stricken, but I can’t help but regard Suduk with a curious expression.

“I don’t understand why that disqualifies anyone,” I say.

“You are unaware of our customs then. It is because the palace has been defended by the Aldamu Almalakiu for generations.”

“The what?”

Marcus laughs. “The Guardians of the Royal Blood. Also called the Red Turbans. They believe the royal family are descendants of the Gods themselves. They’d watch all of Aleria burn if it meant the lives of the royals would be spared.”

All of a sudden I remember those men Arcadia and I passed down in the city, the ones with the red turbans and sashes. They weren’t friendly, but then again nobody in this city but these two have done anything but sneer in our direction.

I sit there for a moment, trying to wrap my mind around all this. Who killed the royal family? The Empress? The merchants? This cult? Some combination of the above? Evidently I’m wearing my confusion on my face, because Suduk gives me a sympathetic smile.

“We have quite a mess on our hands, as you can see,” he says.

I smirk, and nod. “I guess you do.”

Conversation dies down after that, and we eat with our host in semi-awkward silence. Eventually Arcadia slides her chair back and stands up.

“It was nice to meet you both,” she says to Suduk and Marcus. To the latter she smiles and says, “Send my regards to Belina.”

“I shall,” says Marcus. Then he turns his smile on me. “And it was good to see you again, Rekka. You take good care of her now!”

I smirk at him, though I can’t help but feel that his concern for Arcadia is less friendly than political. “That’s what I’m here for,” I say.

With that, we give our thanks once more, and the servants see us out. The sun has set on Aleria, and Arcadia and I walk side-by-side through its busy streets, heading for our cabin on The Dove. Perhaps it’s the only refuge we’ll have in this place, judging by the way the natives continue to glare at us as if we’re the heralds of an invading army.

Arcadia slips her hand into mine while we’re walking. I give it a squeeze, and glance over to see her lost in thought again.

“What’s on your mind?” I ask.

“What isn’t?”

I smirk, and bump her hip with mine, making her stumble and smile at me sheepishly.

“Are you considering what Marcus said?” I ask.

Her smile washes away, and she shakes her head. “I left the palace for a reason. I never wanted any of that responsibility.”

“Even so, the people would be better off with you in charge.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? Everywhere we’ve gone, we’ve left things better off than when we found them. I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”

That makes her flinch, in a cute kind of way. She turns and flashes that goofy smile of hers at me. “Everywhere we’ve gone I’ve bumbled my way through things.”

“Well then it’s fate. You’ll bumble your way to greatness, and I’ll follow you every step of the way.”

There’s that smile again. The good one. The one that makes my heart glow like a little sun. I have to stop walking and bask in it, turning to face her as she blinks and blushes up at me.

“Wh-what?” she asks.

“Nothing,” I say, with a grin. Then I kiss her.