Judd had been given a room in the castle. Actually, everyone, including Suvau, had been invited to stay the night but, in a building as large as the castle of Astaril, everyone had their own rooms. Judd was in the most opulent, sumptuous, beautifully appointed and tastefully decorated bedchamber he had ever had the pleasure of occupying. And yet, rather than enjoy the plumpness of the mattress, the softness of the pillows or the silky soft fur of the rug before the generous hearth with the fire scented by the wood that burned brightly, Judd was pacing.


    Up and down, up and down until he feared he would give the beast that had lost its life to become a floor covering, a bald spot. He was bare foot, dressed in clothing provided by the servants, silky trousers and a white shirt that alarmed him with its sheerness yet covered him appropriately. He tapped his teeth, unable to order his thoughts and calm his mind.


    He desperately wanted someone to talk to, to find one of his companions and try to unravel the consternation of the day’s events. But Judd didn’t know where they were or even where he was in the castle. He had followed the servant after dinner in the dining room where Sir Rylan had kept up a steady stream of dialogue as though the tension in the room was not felt by him at all. Judd couldn’t understand how he could be so obtuse when they were all dull and distracted.


    It had been a relief to escape to his bedchamber but now Judd wondered if the four walls would send him mad.


    Why hadn’t Aalis told him who she was?


    Why hadn’t she returned to her father?


    What happened to her in Fort Verion?


    How did she escape?


    Why was she so afraid?


    Why couldn’t Judd figure anything out on his own?


    He was scraping his fingers so hard through his hair he began to think he’d be fast in following the rug in its bald spot when there came a knock on his door.


    Flooded with such violent relief that he almost fell over, Judd dashed to the door and opened it. “I was just debating about knocking on every door to find…Your Majesty?”


    “I must speak with you, LaMogre.” King Rocheveron slid into the room and closed the door behind himself.


    “Uh…of course,” Judd turned to face him, tugging on his nightshirt, “I’m sorry, I was expecting Caste or Giordi…”


    “No, no, please…do not trouble yourself.” Rocheveron put his hand on the back of one of two chairs in front of the fireplace. He had lost his kingly demeanour, upright and controlled. His hair was almost scraggly and his shoulders were bowed. If not for his robes, Judd could have passed him in the street and not paid him a second glance or recognised him. “Judd LaMogre…I need your help.”


    “Anything, Your Majesty.” Judd promised.


    King Rocheveron turned to face him, his grey eyes as troubled as a sky during a storm at sea. “You have to help me save my daughter.”


    Judd’s jaw fell open. He clamped it shut and closed his eyes. “You…you mean…”


    “Yes,” Rocheveron nodded, “from Sir Garo Rylan.” He shook his head. “That she should come back from the dead only to lose herself to him again…”


    “If you knew he was so bad, why let her marry him?” Judd urged as Rocheveron sank into the chair and he took the seat opposite.


    “Because I did not know,” Rocheveron insisted, looking ten years older than he had just the day before, “I still do not know. Only suspect…” He put his shaking fingers to his mouth and Judd started to recognise how frail he was. “Genovieve was an unwell child, given to hysterics and insomnia, to the point where Viene and I began to think she was not right in her mind. When she reached adolescence, there was a quietening in her mind and she began to sleep properly and regain her health. However, I never intended for her to wed. Nicolin was perfectly capable to inherit the throne and I imagined Genovieve would enjoy a retiring life in her brother’s shadow. Then Sir Garo Rylan began to visit the castle, invited by Nicolin who was a good friend of the knight.”


    Rocheveron shivered. Judd stood and put another log into the hearth, stoking the coals. He also drew a blanket from the bed and draped it over the King’s knees.


    “Do you think Rylan preyed on Genovieve?”


    “That was the strangest part,” Rocheveron shook his head, “there was no air of particular regard or flirtation between them. I do not believe they were ever left alone. Even when Genovieve took a turn in the gardens after eating a meal quietly with the three of us and Rylan would join her in the fresh air, Nicolin made sure to keep watch over them both.”


    Judd sat back in his chair, leaning forward. “What changed?”


    “Rylan approached me and said he was desperately in love with Genovieve. I was so astonished I could hardly contain my surprise. He said he had already spoken to Genovieve about his affections and she had given him permission for him to ask me for her hand…”


    Stolen story; please report.


    “What did Genovieve say?” Judd asked, still struggling to put Genovieve, raven haired princess together with Aalis, silvery dreadlocked healer. They seemed almost irreconcilable.


    “She believed herself to be in love,” Rocheveron sighed, “whatever qualms I had about the union, I kept silent. Genovieve adored Garo without reserve or reason.”


    “Is that why you set Sir Rylan the challenge of killing a minotaur?”


    “I thought it would be enough to give him pause to wonder if Genovieve was really the kind of woman he wanted to marry.” Rocheveron admitted. “To be his wife would mean becoming the lady of a wall fort. It was not the position of a mousy woman and, had he failed to do as I asked, it would mean I would not have to hurt my daughter with a refusal.”


    Judd groaned, pushing his hands through his hair. “Then Rylan brought back three minotaur heads and you couldn’t deny him.”


    “If I had any serious doubts about Rylan, I would have said so,” Rocheveron insisted, “but even Nicolin said, though the proposal was unexpected, that Rylan was the best man he knew. My only doubts were about Genovieve’s ability to be the wife of a knight. They married, spending the wedding week in this very castle with Genovieve appearing bright eyed and joyous every morning. Then they travelled to Fort Verion.”


    Judd gazed at the King, unwilling to ask anymore but knowing that he had to hear it. “What happened?”


    “Nicolin decided to tour the forts, travelling down the eastern side of Terra then along the wall. He was looking forward to seeing his sister for, as different as they were even as twins, they had been very close. He stayed in Verion for three nights then, forsaking the rest of his tour, returned immediately to Astaril with a disturbing report of Genovieve’s wellbeing.” Judd could tell that neither of them wanted to continue the conversation. “Nicolin voiced concerns that Genovieve was…bruised where clothing and powder could not conceal the discolouration. He said that she was not much more than skin and bones and was frequently in need of rest.”


    The arms on Judd’s chair were starting to feel the pressure of his clenching fingers. “Did Nicolin ask Genovieve about it?”


    “He said she claimed she was well and happy but Nicolin swore it was a lie. He even questioned Rylan about Genovieve’s exhaustion. Rylan said they had been trying to conceive and that Genovieve might already be with child.” Rocheveron’s voice was hollow, like the timbre of a winter breeze through fragile autumn leaves.


    “Nicolin didn’t believe that either, did he?”


    “No. He returned to Astaril incensed, demanding I let him return to Fort Verion with a legion of troops to remove Genovieve, forcibly if necessary. He raged about his sister’s condition and condemned Garo Rylan with the protectiveness, not just of a brother but of a twin.”


    Judd was starting to guess the rest of the story but urged the King to continue. “How did you respond?”


    Rocheveron closed his eyes. “I confess…I wondered if Nicolin had suddenly taken leave of his senses. He was the one who had assured me of Rylan’s good intentions and character yet three months later, he was damning the man as a brute, a malicious abuser of his wife. I could not conceive it…and I reacted poorly.”


    “You argued in Rylan’s favour?”


    “Full of pride and refusing to listen.” Rocheveron shuddered. “Nicolin and I had never fought like this before. I finally said we would discuss it in the morning, hoping one of us, if not both, would have come to our senses…that was the last thing I said to him.”


    “He died that night?” Tears trickled out of the King’s eyes as he nodded. Judd wished he could have comforted the elderly man but he was battling an alarming revelation. “Nicolin came from Fort Verion directly?”


    “Yes.”


    “Is it possible Rylan poisoned him?”


    “If he did, it was a poison unknown to the Order. None of them could have killed without prior effects or without evidence and there was no sign of trauma except for a tiny drop of blood in his ear that that physician said could have been the result of a tumour…or stroke. I…I blamed myself. That I had somehow…” Rocheveron hunched over, sobbing into his hands. Judd forgot he was a King and knelt before him, his hands on the older man’s shoulders.


    “Nicolin was healthy and strong. A single fight would not have done this to him.” Judd said firmly, letting him release his grief. When his sobs softened Judd sat back a little, gazing at his grey crown of hair. “I know what happened next. Rylan sent word of Genovieve’s death, the Order covered it up then, five years later, she is dragged before you as a witch.”


    “Without a word of explanation.” Rocheveron croaked. Judd stood and poured him a glass of liquor. The King tipped it down his throat, the heady liquid sinking deep into his chest.


    “What about Rylan? What has she said about him?” Judd asked as he stood over the King.


    “She refuses to say anything about him or what she endured.”


    Judd stared at him. “If you know or even think she’s in danger, don’t give her back to Rylan!” He could hardly believe he was berating the King of Astaril.


    “And if I don’t, Rylan will muster all the might of the wall forts and declare war!”


    Judd paused. “You really think he’d do that?”


    “Nicolin was sure Rylan would not give Genovieve up without a fight or else he would have brought her home with him.” Rocheveron put the glass down, watching the flames dance across the crystal surface. “I am not sure that Astaril’s soldiers, even if we could convince the northern forts to stand with us, would be enough to stop him.”


    Judd sat on the edge of the chair and made sure to catch the King’s eye. “Is temporary peace really worth your daughter’s life? You would trade her for a few years more on the throne?”


    “You do not understand,” Rocheveron exclaimed, standing and pacing, “Genovieve will not say a word against Rylan! She is resigned to return to him! It is she who knows the truth about what happened five years ago but until she speaks…”


    “You don’t wait until your daughter asks for help!” Judd roared, forgetting his place, his manners and any ambition he had of knighthood. “If you know her life is in danger, you defend her! You couldn’t when she was a child, when the nightmares tormented her but the nightmare has become real. It is alive and ready to possess her again. You have to make a choice!”


    “And condemn many lives in the process.” Rocheveron argued. “She will not let it happen!” He paused and stepped closer to Judd. “But…if word circulated of his actions, of what happened to her while she was in his care, support for Rylan might waver. If Genovieve could confirm it…”


    “The knights of the southern forts might think twice about supporting a brute who they hold up as a paragon of virtue.” Judd nodded. “You need to convince her.”


    “No, you need to convince her.” Rocheveron clapped his hands on Judd’s shoulders. “You who have protected her in the past, she will trust! I failed her as a father and as a king but you have not failed her as a the man she loves.”


    “Your Majesty,” Judd lowered his head, “whatever else you might believe, Aalis and I…”


    “Do you love her?”


    He gave a sad laugh. “Probably since the first day we met.”


    “Then, please, give her love to hope for. It might be the only thing that could save her life.”