ZoeStorm

I told you not to expect extra chapters beyond the usual ones scheduled for Saturday, didn't I? Well it turns out I surprised myself. As of right now, I have finished writing this story; I still need to do a few editing passes, but I can do those no problem. Therefore, the final few chapters will be posted on a Wednesday-Saturday schedule. Enjoy!

Content warning: reference to rape.

The next morning I got up, even though I hadn’t slept a wink that night. I still needed to do my usual work as a maid, after all.

“Sleepless night?” Sylvie asked, upon seeing my expression.

“You said it,” I muttered in response. “After everything that happened lately, I’ll probably suffer from insomnia for a while.”

“I hope not, you have to think of a plan, and you need a clear head to do that,” she replied. “By the way, any ideas yet?”

I shook my head. “No, nothing. The problem is… Well, you know what happened last night. And I have Andrej as a witness. However…” I sighed. “Who’d believe us? Besides you, and our other friends, of course. If we just went around saying it, chances are the Prince Regent and the council of nobles would shut us up very quickly and permanently.”

“Yeah, I get it. It’s better…”

“…If we don’t say anything for the time being, and wait for the right chance,” I nodded. “But we have to find some way to prove it for certain, in a way that can’t be readily dismissed.”

We were still thinking about the previous night, and how we could use King Dominik’s words, as we made our way to the mess hall for breakfast. As always, Sylvie and I sat down at the table where Cecily and Therese had already taken a seat, and we started chatting – though my roommate and I kept quiet about the previous night: the less people knew about it, the better.

Cecily and Therese had been relieved to see that I’d seemingly recovered from my depressive mood, ten days previous, and breakfast had once again become a cheery affair: as we shovelled spoonfuls of porridge into our mouths we talked about everything, from the work we had to do that day, to gossip about other servants, to Therese’s husband having just left for a business trip to Darklake Bridge, the capital of another province in the Kingdom.

Our conversation was interrupted, however, when a troop of about a dozen palace guards charged into the mess hall, swords drawn, and started looking around; they were obviously looking for something – or someone.

“What is the meaning of this?” Therese asked, rising to her feet; as the head maid, it stood to her to be the liaison between the servants and the other people who worked and lived in the palace.

The leader of the troop – a captain, I noted by the rank insignia on his uniform – turned to look at her and opened his mouth to answer, but then froze; he raised his arm and pointed at me, and shouted, “There she is!”

I was stunned as six of the guards immediately surrounded our table; this was completely unheard of, to my knowledge nothing like this had happened before in the palace.

“Erica, you are ordered to present yourself before the Prince Regent in the throne room,” the captain said. “Will you come quietly?”

I glanced around the room; from the expression many of the other servants sported on their faces, I was sure they would have my back should I choose not to obey the guard’s order. But that would mean some people would likely get seriously injured, or even killed – the guards were armed and armoured, while we had no weapons at our disposal.

I stood up. “I will,” I replied.

Everyone gave me a concerned stare as I was led out of the mess hall, and all the way to the throne room. I hadn’t been there for a long time, since that first morning after my change had begun, but it wasn’t any different: this time, however, only Izaak and Verdun and the guards were inside.

The huge doors thudded closed behind us, and I was made to stand in the middle of the throne room. I curtsied.

“My lord. Master Verdun,” I said.

“What happened last night?” Izaak asked curtly, dispensing with the pleasantries.

I straightened myself and looked up; he had a strange expression on his face.

“What do you mean, my lord? Last night I summoned by you to your rooms, and I was brought there by Commander Andrej,” I replied. “Then we… Ah, spent time together,” I said, using the first euphemism I could think of, “And then I was brought back to my rooms.”

“I see,” the prince said, in a pensive tone of voice. “Was that all that happened?”

What was he getting at? “It was, my lord.”

“Because you see,” he continued, “I know for sure I requested your presence, but I cannot remember a thing about what happened after I gave the order. I remember being in my bed, waiting for you… And then nothing, I woke up this morning, still in my bed.”

Of course he wouldn’t remember. The sleeping draught I gave him was known to cause a bit of amnesia, everything from about half an hour before taking it was going to be fuzzy and difficult to recall.

“So I asked Verdun what could possibly have happened,” the Prince Regent said, “And his answer was very interesting.” He stared right at me. “Did you put something in the wine?”

And there it was. I needed to play this very carefully: I needed to dispel his suspicion, and make him think I was completely innocent.

“I didn’t, my lord,” I replied. “Why would I do such a thing?”

Izaak’s expression hardened. “I’m asking you once again, and I command you to tell the truth: did you put something in the wine?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“She’s clearly lying, my lord,” Verdun interjected. “I have used magic to discern whether something was added to the goblet of wine that was in your chambers, and the energy I detected clearly pointed towards the drink being doctored.”

I mentally swore. Damn, I’d forgotten to remove my goblet from the scene the previous night.

“What do you say to that, Erica?” Izaak asked.

“I apologise, my lord, but Master Verdun is clearly mistaken,” I replied. “I did not put anything into the wine last night; perhaps he interpreted the energy wrong.”

Verdun’s eyes narrowed. “It’s magic, you silly girl. I have never been wrong about magic.”

“Haven’t you?” I shot back. “You were clearly mistaken about the toll my transformation would have on my body: besides the first time, and that last time when you hit me thrice, I had no trouble withstanding the pain, but you thought I would be knocked out cold by your spell.”

“Listen here, you--” the wizard began, but I interrupted him.

“And besides, why would I lie? How could I lie? You ordered me to tell the truth, my lord, and I am still sworn to obedience. I will never go back on my oath, no matter what it costs me,” I said, staring directly at Izaak. “You know this.”

That was the ace up my sleeve; neither Izaak nor Verdun – no one but Andrej, Sylvie, and King Dominik, in fact – knew I’d been released from my oath the previous night.

Izaak stared at me, deep in thought. “Yes, that is true.”

Verdun turned to look at him. “My lord?”

“I believe Erica,” the prince said, nodding. “She isn’t lying. Are you sure you’re not mistaken about this, Verdun?”

“I’m sure, my lord,” the wizard insisted. “She put a sleeping draught in your wine, I know it.”

“Why?” I asked.

He turned to look at me. “Why what?”

“Why would I do that? What could I possibly stand to gain?” I said.

“How am I supposed to know that?” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “You probably wanted to get back at the prince for what he did to you, and used the draught to make him sleep.”

“Then why is he still alive?” I rebutted. “If I wanted to hurt him, why didn’t I slit his throat open as soon as he fell asleep? And for that matter, why would I bother with a sleeping draught when poison would work much better?”

“She does have a point, Verdun,” Izaak said. “Do you have any proof, besides this… Energy you spoke of?”

“I…” Verdun began, then paused, and sighed. “I don’t, my lord.”

“...Very well,” the prince said, after a moment. “You may go.”

I curtsied, and started to leave, Verdun following me. “Not you, Verdun,” Izaak continued. “We need to have words about you suggesting me to send a full troop of guards to the servants’ wing to apprehend someone who turned out to be innocent, and about you wasting my time when I have an important meeting this morning.”

Verdun had a fearful expression on his face when he answered, “By you command.”

I left the throne room without looking back; as soon as the doors closed behind me, I could hear Izaak start shouting, though I couldn’t make out the words he was saying. I let out a deep sigh of relief: that was way too close for comfort.

I was about to start towards the servants’ wing, to go meet my friends, when I saw four people approaching the doors: a tall man about my age, with red hair and pale skin, dressed in a military uniform, who was flanked by two armoured knights, and a middle-aged man, likely an adviser, dressed in robes, following behind them. I recognised the leader – I’d spotted him at the ball Izaak had thrown just before Founding Day – and dropped into a curtsy; he glanced at me as he passed me, and then spoke with the guard who was standing by the door.

“Crown Prince Julien of Irbia, here to see Prince Regent Izaak,” he said.

The guard saluted. “Your highness. I apologise, the Prince Regent is otherwise occupied at the moment. Please wait, we will call you as soon as he’s free.”

Prince Julien frowned – Izaak’s screams were clearly audible through the door – but nodded, and took a step back.

Meanwhile, I raised myself from my curtsy, and made to leave; however, I was stopped by the prince speaking up.

“You, hold. I would speak with you.”

I stopped, and turned back towards him. “My lord,” I said, dropping into a curtsy again – this one was brief, I didn’t owe him as much respect as I owed Prince Izaak, after all.

He stepped closer, and I saw that he was looking at me with curiosity in his eyes. “You’re… Erica, was it? The one who was forced by Prince Izaak to be naked at the grand ball. The one who used to be a man.”

I almost cringed at the memory, but nodded; I wasn’t about to let him stump me or put me on the spot. “That I am, my lord,” I said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you again.”

“Again?” Prince Julien asked, frowning. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage; I wasn’t aware we’d met, I only spotted you from afar a month ago at the ball.”

“It wasn’t a formal introduction,” I replied. “Four years ago, when King Dominik made a state visit to your country, I was one of the Royal Knights who escorted him. Your hospitality was exquisite, by the way.”

The prince’s lips drew back in a half-smile. “Oh, right. I remember the occasion. And I do remember hearing that you used to be a Royal Knight; the Commander, even, if I’m not mistaken.”

“I was; though now, by Prince Regent Izaak’s command, I am only Erica the maid.”

“Mmhmm,” he said, with a pensive expression on his face. Then his right fist shot out, in a roundhouse punch aimed at my face.

Reflexes took over. My left hand moved lightning fast and deflected the punch away: it passed harmlessly behind my head. Then I grabbed his wrist and twisted a bit while my heel hit the back of his knee, forcing him to kneel down on the floor.

And then I realised what I was doing, and to whom.

Good job, Erica, you probably just caused an international incident.

I immediately released the prince, quickly stepped back, and curtsied once more. “I’m deeply sorry, your highness,” I apologised. “Forgive my insolence.”

Out of the corner of my eye I could see that the man wearing robes had a long-suffering expression on his face. He groaned, pinched the bridge of his nose, and muttered “Here we go again.”

The two armoured knights, on the other hand, had stepped forward, hands on the hilts of their swords and ready to draw, but they stopped when the prince raised his hand and said “Hold.” Then he rose back to his feet, and chuckled.

“You have remarkable skills for a lowly maid,” he said, straightening his uniform, a smile on his lips again. “Have you perhaps considered a change in career?”

He wasn’t angry, apparently? Instead, he seemed almost amused. I carefully considered my answer.

“What skills I have were drilled into me through years of intensive training,” I replied. “As you said, I used to be a Royal Knight, and the Royal Knights are the best soldiers and fighters in the continent.”

The prince waved a hand towards the armoured knights. “Even better than my own bodyguards? They have been thoroughly trained too, you know.”

“Almost certainly,” I replied with confidence. What was he getting at?

His smile became wider. “Then, I suppose you won’t mind giving me a demonstration?”

I blinked, and glanced around: the palace guards were boggling at us, their eyes as wide as saucers. “I’m sorry?” I asked.

“Cyril,” he said, looking over his shoulder.

One of the two knights stepped up to his side. “My lord?”

“Have a spar with the lady,” Prince Julien commanded. “Let’s see how your abilities match up to hers.”

...What?

“Your highness, please,” the advisor said, but was ignored.

“Yes, my lord,” Cyril replied. He apparently was used to the prince giving bizarre orders – or just didn’t want to question him.

“No weapons, of course,” the prince continued. “Just hand-to-hand, first to fall to the ground or admit defeat loses.” He turned his gaze from the knight back to me. “What say you?”

I fixed my eyes on his, and saw that he was serious: he really wanted me to fight his bodyguard. And I couldn’t just refuse – our two countries were at odds already, if I refused and he took offence it could precipitate a war.

I mentally sighed.

“As you command, my lord,” I replied, taking a stance, which was immediately joined by Cyril’s own.

“That’s how I like it,” Prince Julien said. “Well then… Begin.”

Even though the prince had given the command, neither Cyril nor I moved; instead, we studied each other carefully, trying to discern a weakness in each other somehow. He was taller than me, and as a result he had a longer reach, but on the other hand he was bulkier, so he was probably slower. Probably, but not certainly – I knew not to make assumptions, otherwise I risked getting defeated in short order. And he was armoured, so punches and kicks would have a very limited effect; what I needed to do was throw him to the ground. Somehow.

And I had just the plan.

I stepped forward, and threw a punch at him. It was slow and sloppy – intentionally, so he could easily parry it, and he did. Now, with a little luck…

As I’d hoped, he grabbed my arm, and twisted it, pulling me into a hold, my back facing towards him; he flexed my arm a bit, and I felt a bit of pain in my joints. Not too much, he evidently didn’t want to break my arm.

“Do you surrender?” Cyril asked.

I didn’t answer: instead I jumped, pushing my legs behind me and wrapping them around his. I twisted my body as I fell; my arm slipped out of his grasp and he was thrown off-balance by my sudden movement. He tried to regain his footing, but I didn’t let him – as soon as I was on the ground, I pulled sharply with my legs. He fell backwards, landing on flat on his back, his armour making a loud clanging noise.

I paused for a moment, then released the hold I had on him, and stood back up; he did the same.

Prince Julien clapped his hands twice. “Excellent!” he exclaimed. “A splendid demonstration; however, I’m afraid you’ve lost, Erica.”

I looked at him. “What do you mean, my lord? I brought Cyril down.”

“She did, sir. Victory is hers,” Cyril admitted; he knew how to graciously accept defeat.

The prince was smirking again. “What did I say?” he asked. “First to fall to the ground or admit defeat loses. You touched the ground first, Erica.”

I realised he was right; for a brief moment I glared daggers at him and was about to give him a snippy answer, but then I bit my tongue.

“I suppose so,” I said.

“Still, that was very--” the prince began to say, but was interrupted by the doors to the throne room being thrown open.

“What in the hell is this godsamned racket!” Prince Regent Izaak shouted. “I can barely hear myself think, let alone talk!”

He turned his gaze around, likely searching for someone to blame, until his eyes came to rest on me. “What are you still doing--” he began.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it was my fault,” Prince Julien said, raising both hands. Izaak’s head spun to look at him. “I was just having a bit of fun, that’s all.”

Izaak’s eyes narrowed. “Fun…?”

“Of course! A sorely needed moment of respite before diving back into treaty negotiations, which are ever so dreadfully boring,” Julien replied. “Don’t you think so, Prince Regent Izaak?”

Izaak was still glaring at him, but still, he nodded. “Of course,” he said. He took a deep breath. “Speaking of which, we should get back to them, we’ve already been delayed long enough.” He turned, and glared at Verdun, who was standing behind him; the wizard shrank back – evidently he’d been told off, and quite harshly – and then slunk around Izaak, out of the throne room.

“Certainly, certainly,” Prince Julien said. “Lead the way.” Then he turned to me and said, “You’re a remarkable person, Erica the maid. I’ll see you around.”

He winked, and then he and his entourage followed Izaak inside the room; the doors shut behind them.

I was left staring at the door, dumbfounded. What the hell was that about?

I was brought back to reality by Verdun’s voice. “Don’t think even for a moment that you’ve deceived me,” the wizard said, glaring at me. “I know you put something in the wine, and I know you’re planning something. I’ll find out what it is and tell the Prince Regent, and then you’ll get what’s coming to you.”

I levelled a stare at him. “Say, Verdun,” I said. “Do you remember the promise I made to you in your laboratory? I think it was a bit more than a month ago, maybe two.” My gaze turned hard. “See that you don’t forget it.”

I turned around and walked away without bothering to wait for a response.

When I reached the mess hall breakfast was already over, and everyone had left for their duties – except for Sylvie, who’d been waiting for me. She gave me a hug, and worriedly asked if I was alright. I nodded, and as we left the palace for the day (she’d specifically asked Therese to be sent to the marketplace with me) I told her what had happened. She was really relieved that Prince Izaak hadn’t found out what we’d done to him the previous night, but then her expression became puzzled when I described my encounter with Julien, Crown Prince of Irbia.

“Weird,” she said. “I never would have expected a noble, someone from a ruling family, even, to be so… Playful.”

“You mean he’s an idiot,” I said. “He seemed to almost take pleasure in trying to put me on the spot. Not that I let him. And this isn’t unusual for him, judging by how his adviser reacted to his antics.”

“Maybe…” Sylvie put a hand to her chin. “Maybe we can use him?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that, he clearly was listening to you, and treating you almost as his equal,” she replied. “And of course, he’s close to Izaak, since they’re apparently negotiating a treaty. I don’t know just how yet, but this could be a good chance to get close to the Prince Regent.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I said. “Maybe if--”

I stopped; I’d heard a distant noise. We were halfway to the marketplace, but turned back to look at the palace, sitting halfway up the hill that overlooked the City of Harburg.

Bells have been used since ancient times to send messages, spread news, or warn people of impending danger; all temples and most civic buildings are equipped with a bell tower to house them, either short or tall, and the royal palace of Harburg was no different – though its bell tower wasn’t very visible, being the same height as the palace’s other towers, and it hadn’t been used for a long time.

But now we could clearly hear an ominous noise. The largest bell was tolling, deeply and slowly.

It only ever rang like that when someone important had died.

Sylvie and I looked at each other, and then hurried back to the palace, almost at a full run; when we arrived the guards that were outside the doors told us that all servants were to gather in the mess hall, and we complied.

We stayed there for a while with everyone else; we were all whispering to each other, wondering what had happened. It wasn’t until Therese arrived that we got the news.

Her mood was sombre and dark as she entered the room. She coughed and clapped her hands to attract our attention, and then spoke up.

“My friends, people of the palace. It is with a heavy heart that I bring you these ill tidings.”

She took a deep breath, and continued, looking directly at me.

“I am sorry to tell you that King Dominik passed away during the night.”