Rue led me into a room a door down from the examination office. A single bed sat in the middle of the room. The far wall had a window high up on the wall to prevent attacks, I guess. One glance at the ivory inlay in the frame told me this was undoubtedly the royal suite. Or at least what passed for one at one point in time.

The bed looked lumpy, and the sleeping furs were in desperate need of a wash. Whichever of Rue’s aides were in charge of cleaning this room needs to be ousted from their position.

Talk about nasty. But it’s sadly not the worst place I’ve ever slept.

I dropped onto the bed. It was lumpier than I thought. “You’ve been chewing on your lip since you looked me over, Rue. What’s your issue?”

Considering she’s having me stay in bed several days, I’m pretty sure I can get away with talking however I want. So that’s what I’m doing.

She shook her head, which did absolutely nothing to remove the questions from my mind but forcing the issue would hardly engender her to me.

Rue folded her hands behind her and started toward the door. “I’ll send Samira in when she arrives.”

She was mostly out the door when she stopped. Then, craning her neck to look at me, she spoke. “Highness, have you ever thought you might be the right person for the throne?”

I begin to hack and cough so hard my chest aches. What is Rue talking about? Usurping Tolwren’s position wasn’t possible. It had never been. Not even in the beginning when these people had some idea as to what and who they were.

The closest thing that had happened was twice before the heir died before succession took effect.

There were no disputes over succession. They didn’t happen.

Well, technically, there was one, just one. A legend I wrote up to add to the reference materials. Their Goddess, the mother, had chosen the second son. One thing led to another; the second son vied for the throne, and the oldest ended up dead.

But there was no way I was ‘chosen’ by a non-existent goddess, especially when she was fake in the story as well.

“Sleep on it, Highness, please.”

I nodded. What else could I do?

Saying yes wasn’t an option; screw all the effort it takes to be a king. As the fourth son, all I had to do was show up. Add that to knowing what was likely to happen, and boom! The perfect makings for an easy life spent in high regard.

She stepped from the room.

You as King? Her time may be up, yet, it seems she’s lost her mind.

You’re not wrong, especially if the King or Piety heard what she said.

My course is clear, wait for morning and give her a big fat N.O. as an answer.

If his Majesty hears of it, will you protect her? This woman who would have you be King?

That threw me for a loop. Would I? It’s not like there was anything to gain from it. In fact, it’d likely end with me being killed myself. That said, if they tried to off her right in front of me… I don’t think I could let them go through with it.

Course, I’m not going to tell Endurance that. So let the pain in the ass suffer!

Who knows.

I hear his snort as I make myself comfortable in the bed. There’s no chance I’m rising to the bait he threw out. However, his disdain is the least of my concerns.

So many things weren’t going how I wrote them, and I know that Vandel* dying was a catalyst to some of it, but it shouldn’t have stopped significant events. Hell, I even wrote backup plans just in case it didn’t happen the way I wanted in the first draft!

Yet, Tolwren didn’t nearly die, which meant he didn’t stomp away from the King for sacrificing one of the guards to save him.

What else has changed, and was that change done by some unseen force or simple cause and effect?

Would testing on the smaller facets be enough?

Within the week, a family of Tuviat basically ferrets the size of a medium-sized dog with a hankering for baby flesh would be burrowing under the wall. Capturing them would have to be my first order of business. I could do so many things with them, even if I’d prefer to have one of the others.

Dammit. I should have used the Kirusk! That would have been awesome.

I was in the middle of berating myself when I must have fallen asleep because when my eyes opened, Samira was right beside me. Like a few inches or less away.

“Son of a bitch!” I tried to scramble backward but found myself stuck in the furs.

“Highness? Are you awake? Please return to your slumber confident that I will be watching over you.”

She was watching me sleep.

The way she announced it did not fill me with confidence either, not in the slightest. All it did accomplish was sending shivers running through me. She’s a complete creeper.

I jabbed my finger toward the door.

“Get out.”

She dropped to one knee, her fists pressed against the stone. “I refuse! A guard cannot leave her post under any circumstance!”

I bury my face into the furs with a groan and regret it instantly. The smell burns my nose. I shove Samira away and throw myself to my feet. Then, taking the skins, I sling them at my guard. “Get that washed.”

As soon as she’s gone out of the room, I’m making a run for it. I’d rather find a quiet corner to lay in than deal with her staring.

She dragged the furs across the floor, threw the door open, and belted out a whistle that brought an aid running. “See to it; you scrub this clean.”

She destroyed my plan just like that.

I frown as she turns to face me. I’m not going to be getting any sleep.

***

I was right. Samira didn’t take her eyes off me for more than a few moments at a time. Did the King tell her that she wasn’t to take her eyes off me? It sounds like something he’d say that she’d take literally.

An odd thing considering I didn’t write her to be an idiot. Slightly compliant maybe, but clever, again and again proving she could outthink her enemy. So what was this? Did I mess up a line in her profile or something?

It quickly got to the point that I just needed to get rid of her. That’s fine. If I can’t catch a break, I’ll make myself one.

As soon as I could see the barest hint of light through the window, I made my move.

“Samira, I’d really appreciate it if you’d go and get my breakfast.”

Very devious.

I can hear the sarcasm in his tone, but I say nothing; there’ll be time to respond later.

Samira eyes me for a moment, no doubt questioning why I’m sending her for food when it would be delivered to me before long, but she lets it go and strides out the door. I waited for five beats after she left to throw the blankets off. Another two moments and I’m out the door myself.

Getting out of the Healer’s turned out to be far easier than I expected. The aides were all in various states of unconsciousness, one of which consisted of staring blankly at an empty vial like it was something important.

It had me convinced enough to check. It wasn’t. Still just an empty vial, not even corked.

Rue must’ve been off attending to something, likely far beneath her, but as it allowed me to walk out the front of the building, I find I don’t much care. I stopped only once to pull Rue’s spare white cloak from the rack.

After getting out, it was as easy as putting on the stolen cloak, and no one gave me a second look. It’s sad that a white cloak offers one free-range, even if I’m pleased to take advantage of it.

I’m going to have to rectify that or get someone to.

Moving through the village, I’m grateful that I made a colossal map detailing the city’s layout down to any halfway important characters’ home so I could use them for any exciting incident I thought up if I got half a mind to. But it makes finding the orphanage easy.

On the village’s Eastside, the largest building outside the guardhouses with a training yard attached. The military arts might have been a requirement, but most children learned the basics from parental figures or on duty hence why the orphanage got the little something extra.

Nourish any talent, no matter where they might come from.

Moving along the perimeter, I search for any sign that the Tuviat might have begun its hunt. Not that there are many of those. Mostly cracks and chips in the stone.

I started to make another pass when the orange fluff ball strutted right up to me and meowed.

“You know, I wasn’t trying to crush you, right?” Reaching out, I go to pat it only for my hand to pass through the cat’s head. Scrambling back, I narrow my eyes at it.

“Why are you haunting me?”

The cat meowed again, then wandered over to the wall and laid down.

“Fine, don’t help me. I wonder if I ever jotted anything about exorcisms into the story?”

If it was worried about my grumblings, it didn’t show the slightest outward sign.

Leaning my back against the building, I slid down. If the tuviat were coming, they’d be using the wall closest to their targets. A wall that just so happens to be right in front of me.

“Did you really think you’d gotten away?”

I jerk forward and look around for the person who’d spoken. There was no one there. Could it have been said to one of the kids inside? Turning slightly, I strained to hear whatever was being said.

I saw her shadow sweep by before I saw her. Aster, she’d just dropped from somewhere to land in front of me.

“You did, didn’t you?” She laughed. “You used to make this difficult, at least. That head wound must really be slowing you down.”

Your skills do pale in comparison to my Prince’s. But, of course, I believe you know how worthless you are.

How did he put up with you again? Why the hell didn’t I add a mute option to you?

Oh, right, I wanted to annoy him.

“Aster.” I spare her a nod and focus my attention back on the sand.

“Is this really how you want to spend your day? Yesterday morning, you talked about Ryver’s Twanlad and how you wanted to see them.

The Twanlad. A dog-like animal with two forward bodies and one back. It has two heads, four eyes and ears, and seven legs. Originally it was a dingo. It also happened to be created in the same places as the Tuviat.

I don’t remember any of them in the original book either. Ryver is the city’s stable master and one of the few male characters outside the royal family. I only ever briefly mentioned and only concerning the seven girls and one boy he produced.

Gods, I wish I’d access to Vandels* memories. It’d make my life so much easier.

She waits for your answer.

Dammit, be quiet!

I pity the pain that annoys me next. A number of ways to torment Endurance had already entered my head. My favorite happened to be singing show tunes when I was awake and making him listen to them. Sadly, as much as it amuses me, doing it to an opponent that doesn’t sleep wouldn’t count as the best move on my part.

Taking to my feet, I gesture her to lead the way.

She doesn’t. Instead, she peers at me like I’ve grown a foot in a matter of moments. “Why did you come to the orphanage anyways? It’s got pretty high foot traffic.”

I stopped. There is no doubt that the Tuviat family would show up and go after the kids when I left. The very thought of the weasel finding its way to them disgusts me. Off the warriors, I don’t care, such as the nature of war. But not kids.

Did that matter when they aren’t actual people? Can I count them as real people? The idea of the children being their meal does turn my stomach.

“Vandel*?

I barely hear her.

“Vandel, I thought you wanted to go?”

I do. But I can hardly say that I can’t because I’d feel guilty over the loss of the children, even if they are imaginary. She’d probably knock me in the head herself, and I’d wake up outside the city walls forced to fend for myself like the other mentally ill.

I cannot say I’m pleased that’s how I had them dealt with, but it was the only way that made sense. And in all fairness, letting someone who thinks they spew fire and sand from their mouths because the Goddess cursed them walk about isn’t necessarily the safest thing considering they’re constantly heaving handfuls of sand at people’s faces.

Unlike them, I’d survive, but earning the life I’d want would be more complicated.

I twitch and shake my head; I’d need time alone to plot and plan. “Can’t, somethings coming.”

“What?”

I shrug. “Somethings coming for the kids.”

I expect Aster to look at me as if I’d lost my mind because seriously, who would say and believe that without any tangible proof? On the other hand, I know I’d be more than skeptical if I were in her position.

The firm line she set her mouth into and her furrowed brow surprised me. She doesn’t think it is out of the realm of the possible. If she did, she’d be smacking my shoulder and mocking my manner of speech and tone. She’s not doing that.

Why? Simply, because people actively look for logical connections.

“What did Tehma spot?”

I felt like slapping myself in the head. But, of course, she thought I’d seen Tehma, the kingdom’s most accomplished hunter.

“Not sure. It’s a subterror.”

She nodded and looked at the building and snapped her fingers. “You think it’s a Tuviat Family.”

I nodded. Ha!

Your story will last only for as long as they believe Tuviat is coming. You’ve a day. Two at most. That is, of course, until they speak with Tehma

I almost want to correct him, but it’s going to be a hell of a lot more amusing when I’m proven right.

“We’ll send guards back to watch out for them. You’re supposed to be on bed rest.”

I choose to ignore her statement. I have to. If I hear one more person telling me what I’m supposed to be doing, I might just blow a gasket.

Hell, it might even be worth it if these people start to get that I’m the Prince.

“You’re thinking something rude again.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. I don’t care if the code name the government gave them was the esper initiative. She shouldn’t be able to read my mind.

“I’m not reading your mind, Vandel* and I’m not having this conversation with you again. It’s not some latent power awakening or anything nearly as amazing. I just know you.”

As sad as I find that, I can, in fact, believe it without issue.

“Just get the guards so we can go.” I deliberately keep my eyes on the sand at her feet and fail in the attempt.

With a grin, Aster slapped my shoulder and all but pranced off.

I’ve changed my mind. I don’t care what Aster says; somehow, she’s reading my mind.

She returned just a few minutes later with a handful of guards in tow. Each of the purples took up a position near the orphanage.

“Reliefs here. Let’s go.”

Aster took hold of my arm and all but dragged me off.

***

I smelled them long before I saw them: rancid breath, fecal matter, and the strong smell of urine. The first of them was waiting at the fenceline for us, their teeth bared. They barked almost in perfect unison, creating an echo effect that had shivers racing up and down my spine.

“What fool is bothering you, beasties?”

Ryver’s voice sounded like the man looked rough and weathered, scruffy, and calloused. Like he hadn’t wasted a single day on even the thought of play and had no intention of ever doing so. Then, dressed in greens, he stopped mid-stride and dropped to one knee, fists pressed to the sand.

I started looking around to see just who he was reacting to, but it hit me before making the entire rotation.

“Prince *Vandel, it is a great honor to have you here.”

Everything about the way he greeted me rang false. I’ve met plenty of people like him in my life. People rolled their eyes when I said I’m an author, thinking it’s an unimportant fact. What he meant, though, I’ve no idea, just that it’s not what came out of his mouth.

“Ryver, I told his Highness about the tricks you’ve been teaching the Twanlad.”

“Tricks?!” Ryver was no longer on his knees. Instead, he was just inches from Aster and looked ready to blow his top. “These are children of the Goddess! I am attempting to help them return to their former glory!”

I blinked. The man had forgotten all about me, suits me just fine.

I walk up to the fence; the twanlad is there, waiting for me, its Doberman-like heads focused entirely on my throat. Watching, waiting, looking for any mistake that it could capitalize on. Such is the way of an apex predator.

Focusing on the fluctuating waves and the energy that made them up, I press outwards, imagining a chord reaching through my eyes and into the canines and concentrating on nothing else save for the beats of my breathing.

One, two, three, four, five.

One, two, three, four, five.

Like this, a minute passed. Thankfully Ryver was still reading Aster the riot act and hadn’t noticed a thing.

If you are attempting to summon me by force, you are doing a poor job, imposter.

I can feel my eye twitch, but Endurance had given me an idea.

Then summon yourself though I doubt you can.

Your attempts to goad me are as transparent as the air itself.

I grit my teeth. Manifest or I rip the emitter from my head and fry you while I just jump to a different body!

It was a useless threat for two reasons: one, even if I removed the emitter, it wasn’t like I didn’t have a way around it, and two, Aster would undoubtedly rip her off my head to replace it.

Okay, three reasons, the third being I intended to take the emitter off anyway.

A moment of silence turned to two before a mild humming feeling filled my brain.

Perfect!

Focusing on the feeling of the energy, I begin to direct it. It was less like shoving or dragging and more like threading countless needles.

Was it a swift process? Not in the slightest, but it wasn’t like the twanlad had anywhere to be.

As I threaded the energy through my eye, I felt it begin to heat up, and at the same time, something was pressing it down.

Having been kicked by a horse and stabbed through the hand with a fork, pain is not an unfamiliar companion to me. Yet, I do not doubt that my pain right now is far worse.

Tears built at the corner of my eye, but I didn’t take my attention away from my target. The energy had passed through the canine’s eye and had already begun to do its work. Soon—

***

I came too in the darkness, my eye aching. I must have passed out, and Aster returned me to the room Rue assigned. Growling, I slam my hand into my furs which smell a hell of a lot better than before. Leaning forward, I sling the skins to the side and found any further advancement blocked by Samira.

She looked miserable.

“Highness…” She sounded somber. “I’m afraid I must inform you of your royal brother, the crown prince’s passing.”

At first, the words make about as much sense as a skunk trying to swim up a waterfall. Then in an instant, I was awake and aware.

Tolwren is dead.

Was it because he was supposed to die, and since the circumstances initially used were changed, it happened later?

I turned to look at the door, Rue’s words filtering into my head. “Highness, have you ever thought you might be the right person for the throne?”

Did she do this?

My stomach tightened as a line I’d written into Rue’s character profile popped into my head.

(Rue is a religious fanatic, it is, for this reason, she can’t be anything less than loyal.)

But did it even make it into her final profile? I guess it must’ve.

She might’ve killed him. I can almost picture it. All she had to do was mix the right herbs and spike his tea or toss the herbs directly into the fire. Twenty to thirty minutes later? Bam! Tolwrens kicked the bucket, and Rue’s nowhere nearby.

A shiver runs down my spine. If Rue thought Tolwren unworthy, then what about me? If she pays enough attention, no doubt she’ll realize her mistake.

I’m so screwed.