Chapter 14

Her lungs burned as they pumped furiously, her heart beating faster and faster as she sprinted down the hall. It was dark, but she dared not stop. If the thing that was chasing her caught up, she knew she would be tortured. She kept running down deserted tunnels that twisted and turned; no end in sight. The thing roared, and she cried out for help, but no one could hear her. She had a feeling that she was buried somewhere underground, forgotten by all those who knew her. Suddenly, there was a light. It was growing stronger! She saw the door, and she made a sharp turn into the opening, her feet fighting to keep her standing. But it was not the exit she had hoped for. Her eyes were blind from being in the darkness for too long. She smashed face-first into a solid wall that trapped her.

Miriam woke with a start. Her legs were cramped, and her back was soaked with sweat. Heaving a sigh or two to calm her heart, she rolled onto her back. It had been a dream, but the underlying meaning was clear. The note in her own bed had violated her deepest sense of security. Somewhere in the castle, someone was watching her, and he had no qualms about letting her know it. Her body chilled with dread. The note said "we." Gods help her. She faced more than one adversary.

The scheme, as far as nefarious schemes went, was perfect. At the moment, Miriam knew she was probably one of the few people allowed access to the king. For some time now, she had noticed the tightening of security. The Royal Guards checked her supplies and tools more often, and there was almost always someone scrutinizing her every move from afar when she administered treatment. It was almost as if they were expecting some sort of threat.

But the guards knew nothing about potent herbs. She could easily slip some poison into the king's usual pain medication, allowing the man's body to deteriorate slowly. The eventual death might never even be traced to her. If a quick death was desired, she could also mix incompatible herbs together to cause a bad reaction. The probability of being caught was higher, but she suspected that she could escape the castle during the chaos of a king's death. The thought of murder chilled her to the bones. She was a Healer and had sworn an oath to dedicate herself to the Arts. To betray that promise would be the collapse of the system as she knew it.

But why would someone want the king's death, she wondered. They operated in the castle; therefore, they must know that the king was in ill health. They must know that it was only a matter of time before the king died. What purpose would an acute death serve?

So engrossed in her thoughts was she that when Fanny entered the room, she jerked involuntarily, startled out of her reverie.

Her movement apparently startled Fanny as well. "Is everything alright, Miriam? You seem as if you've seen a ghost."

Miriam rolled her shoulders, forcing herself to relax. It was only Fanny, after all. "I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting you at the moment."

Fanny hurried to her bedside, fussing over the mangled sheets. "It is early yet. You could have rung the bell for me, you know."

"I know, but I'm sure you need your sleep. Besides, I needed time to think."

Fanny stroked the fire as Miriam dressed herself. Miriam asked Fanny as nonchalantly as possible, "Did you leave my room right after Adrian came by for me?"

Satisfied with the strength of the fire, Fanny wiped her hands on her apron before setting out the tools for fixing Miriam's hair. "Why, no," she said, pulling the comb through. "I put away your gowns, turned down your bed, and banked the fire before going off to my own chamber."

Not wanting to raise Fanny's suspicions, Miriam did not ask when she left. The news disturbed her even more. Tidying the room must have taken Fanny an hour at most. Miriam and Adrian were gone for almost an hour and a half. This indicated that someone had to have been observing her chamber for the right moment to slip the note into her bed without being noticed. A chill ran down her back.

Clearing her throat, she said, "Fanny, if it's not too much trouble, could you please keep my door locked at all times? I have some plants stored here that, if used wrongly, could be deadly. I don't want anyone to accidentally ingest them or take them for their own twisted purposes."

Fanny looked concerned, but she nodded. "Oh dear. I will certainly be sure that the door is locked from now on."

"Thank you."

Nudging Miriam lightly, Fanny grinned at her in the mirror, her eyes twinkling. Eagerly, she asked, "So? Aren't you going to tell me what happened when you went walking with the handsome Lord Aubren?"

Schooling the twitching corner of her mouth still, Miriam looked away. She picked up the hairbrush and pull off the loose strands of hair. "Honestly, there isn't much to tell, Fanny."

Impatient for news, Fanny hopped in front of her, shaking her lightly. "Come, Miriam. Pray tell!" she pleaded. "I heard Lord Aubren is a good kisser. Is it true?"

Laughing, Miriam tried to struggle out of her grasp. When she managed to catch her breath, she asked, "How is it that you know he kissed me?"

"So it's true!" Fanny said triumphantly. "I knew it!"

"Wait, I didn't say he kissed me," Miriam teased.

Pulling another stool in front of Miriam, Fanny hopped restlessly in her chair. Pouting a little, she said, "You need not say it. It is apparent in your face."

"Alright," Miriam laughed. "Alright, let me just tell you that I've never been kissed by any other person before, so I don't have a basis for comparison. But he was sweet, and his mouth did all sort of wonderful things. When he kissed me, I felt this heat spread through my body, and I felt so light that I could just fly away."

Propping her chin in her hands, Fanny sighed dreamily. "Just listening about it makes me hot. He is so handsome. If I could just touch that wavy hair, just once, I'd die happy."

"Oh Fanny," Miriam said with a smile, "you are such a romantic."

Incredulous, Fanny asked, "Don't you realize that you've just snagged the most desirable bachelor councilman in court? Oh Miriam, he is indeed the most handsome nobleman here. Well, besides his in-law, Count Ravenshire. All the ladies who had their eyes on him will be so jealous if they heard about your little midnight rendezvous!"

Gnawing the bottom of her lip, Miriam said with concern, "I don't particularly want so many enemies here." She was silent for a while, thinking. Then, exploding, "Except for Lady Charlotte perhaps. Oh, I can't stand that conniving vixen."

Fanny laughed so hard that she fell off the stool. Clutching her aching belly, she gasped, "Do you think Lord Aubren is going to ask you to marry him soon? I may be out of employment if he does."

Somber now, Miriam looked back at her reflection in the mirror. She looked the same as ever, and she wondered again why Adrian found her so attractive. She saw nothing. "I don't know, Fanny," she said. "I don't know if I shall marry him."

Confused, Fanny said, "But Miriam, he's such a perfect man. If he were to ask me, I'd drag him in front of the temple before he finished his proposal."

Forcing a smile, Miriam shrugged. "Ah, we'll see where the Gods take us."

Adrian tickled the bottom of his chin with his quill, thinking. The Security Council was meeting today to address the issue of castle security and military intelligence. Erythalian government was structured such that the top three counselors were responsible for different aspects of the government, depending on their talents and experience. Currently, the First Counselor dealt with government finances, a position which the Aubren family had held for generations. Adrian had been practically groomed for the job since his birth. Count William of Ravenshire, Second Counselor, had served in the army before his elder brother's sudden death, making him the logical choice for the head of the military. As for the Third Counselor, Earl Charles of Queensfield had served the king as head of intelligence since his ascent to the throne. The king, or in this case Prince Cornelius, was primarily responsible for foreign relations.

The rest of the councilmen were divided into groups, each overseeing a particular section of the government's operation. Once a day, the entire council gathered, along with the king, to discuss general issues. In the afternoon, the special conventions assembled in different rooms in the castle to work on their specific responsibilities. Emergency meetings convened as necessary, called together by the leaders of the special conventions. The elderly Third Counselor, the Earl of Queensfield, was in poor health recently, so Adrian had been taking over some of his responsibilities. Today, however, Charles of Queensfield was feeling well enough to attend the meeting.

He sat at the presiding chair straight and proud, his aura giving no sign of a frail old man. Reaching a papery white hand toward a piece of parchment, he looked to Adrian expectantly. Clearing his throat, Adrian gave a brief summary of yesterday's meeting.

"I see," Queensfield said, his voice solemn. "It seems that we must monitor the castle's traffic closely to find the spy. Lord Aubren had suggested, and I tend to agree, that restricting access in and out of the castle at this time to make certain the truth of the king's health does not leak out was wise. Do we have any suspects as to whom the spy is?"

"We are not certain at this time," Adrian said. From the murmur of the rest of the council, he guessed that they did not like the news either. "We are working on deciphering the intercepted rebel correspondence."

"What sort of rebel correspondence?" a newly elected councilman asked curiously.

"We are not at liberty to discuss that information," Queensfield said automatically, "but rest assured that we will do everything in our power to find the spy."

William looked up from his scribbling, his eyes tired. "What we do know about the spy is that he must be in a highly authorized position, for he infiltrated our most closely guarded information, the schedule of the Royal Chamber Guards."

There was a collective gasp, followed by a roar of outrage and speculation. Queensfield calmly allowed a moment for the chatter before raising his hand to indicate silence. The voices died off as the councilmen looked toward him.

"We have already taken steps to protect that information," he said. "For now, our efforts must be to not only find the spy, but also to keep secret the status of the king's health from the formerly crowned Prince Edward and his rebel forces. As you all know, he is looking for a window of chaos during the transition of power from the king to Prince Cornelius upon the king's death. The Healer of Rae, Mistress Miriam, had been found, thanks largely to the effort of Lord Aubren, and is currently tending to the king's health. She could give us more time to convince the people that the king's abandonment of tradition is the best course for this country. Though all of us here witnessed first-hand the truth about the Prince Edward's inability to lead, most traditionalists cannot see that. They stubbornly hold onto the belief that the first born must inherit the throne, regardless of his qualification."

Taking a sip of water from his glass, Queensfield paused. "Now, we have already passed laws to ensure that the king's action was legal. The only task left to do is to convince the people. Prince Cornelius is scheduled to attend local councils in the most populous cities in Erythal. His interaction with the local councils is to be open to the public scrutiny. We will, of course, be going through the cities so that Prince Cornelius could meet the public."

Queensfield motioned to the councilman who had raised his little red flag. "Yes, Lord Stafford."

The councilman cleared his throat, peering down his glasses at his notes. "Does this mean that we will be presenting an official pardon in regards to the Healers' status in Erythal?"

Prince Cornelius nodded. "We have come to realize that Healers are important for a functional society. Though official steps for the reinstatement of the Healers will not be taken at this time, we will be issuing the reestablishment of the Grehanat School of Healing Arts and the Council of Healers after we put away the rebels."

"But Your Highness," Stafford stammered, "the Healers were responsible for the queen and the princess's deaths! They are evil sorcerers, all of them, and ought to be purged."

Though angered by the statement, Adrian kept his mouth shut. It pained him that years had not erased the tragic effects spawned from a misunderstanding between the royal family and healers. And we all pay the price, he thought. People feared what they did not know, that he understood. But anyone who saw Miriam at work could not possibly accuse her of evil, for her absolute dedication was obvious.

"People die, Lord Stafford." The prince's voice was hard and rang with finality. "We cannot understand the will of the gods; thus we do not know why some people are called to their side. Healers are knowledgeable, but even they cannot know the gods' will. We leave that to the priests and priestesses of the temple."

Adrian looked down, hiding a smile. Though Miriam accused the prince of being rude and callous, when it came down to rationality, he knew he could count on the Prince.

Another councilman asked, "How long do we have before the king succumbs to the illness?"

Adrian said, "If I may, Charles?" To the councilman, he replied, "We cannot be sure how long the king will live, but the Mistress Healer indicated that he had a few months."

"However, gentlemen," William warned, "we must find the spies and capture the rebel forces as soon as possible. We do have an idea about where the main arms of Prince Edward's forces are, although the exact location of his army and the number of men he has remains unclear. We do know that most of his rebel force consists of hired mercenary."

"He draws his finances from his supporters, who for the most part considers this venture an investment," Adrian said. "In exchange, they are promised high government positions from which they could skim off money for their own coffers."

The outraged voices roared as Queensfield signaled for silence once more. "Gentlemen," he started, "I think we are of one mind here that Prince Edward must be stopped. If he succeeded in seizing the throne, not only would our positions be endangered, but also our lives. As the more senior councilmen can testify, Prince Edward was not particularly known for his kindness."

He cleared his throat. "Now, let us draft a plan of action to reinforce the security of the castle."