Zan stared in disbelief at the clothing on the long wooden table. The other members were in various states of shock. Some took the news stoically while Birger was a blubbering mess.

"How can you be sure this belongs to the Empress?" The silver-eyed man tried to deny what was before him.

Cafer spread his hands apart and sighed. "You were not anywhere to be found so I took some liberties. I have called the cobbler, dress maker and royal physician. They will determine if this evidence is genuine."

"Where did it even come from?" Zan was immediately suspicious.

"It appeared mysteriously on the palace steps this morning wrapped in brown parchment. The maid who found it screamed and nearly passed out. We convinced her that it was just a joke by some ill-bred city youth."

Just then the doctor arrived followed shortly by a seamstress and cobbler. While the doctor carried himself with dignity in front of such an auspicious group, the two commoners looked terrified. Zan could not process the events occurring, and he allowed Cafer to begin the questioning once the Council was seated.

He began with with the cobbler. "Good sir, did you make these shoes?"

The cobbler examined the shoes with his eyes. Because one of the shoes was on its side, the cobbler could clearly see his maker's mark on the bottom. He swallowed nervously. "I did," he confirmed.

"And where did you deliver these particular shoes?" Cafer encouraged him gently.

"To the palace, I believe…" The cobbler answered. Cafer raised his eyebrows. The cobbler realized he had not sounded sure. "To the palace," he repeated confidently.

"Thank you. Please wait outside." The poor man did not need to be told twice, nearly running as he exited the room.

When summoned, the dressmaker stepped forward, twisting the strings of her apron behind her back to ease her tension. Cafer led her through the same set of questions, and she too admitted that it was from a dress that she sent to the palace.

Finally it was the doctor's turn. "Doctor," Cafer stood and paced down the table shoes and cloth. "Are these stains blood?"

The doctor, who had wisely brought his medicine kit, dug through his bag and pulled out a colorless liquid. With a small dropper, he dripped the liquid on the red smears. Nothing happened for a moment, and then bubbles formed on the stains. The doctor's face was grim, "It is blood, but I cannot say if it is human or not."

After the doctor left the Council meeting room, Zan spoke his thoughts, "We do not know that it is the Empress's blood."

"Who else's would it be?" Cafer countered. His brow was arched with concern.

Zan stayed silent for a moment. "Perhaps someone was injured, and she used part of her tunic to dress the wound."

"I know you want to cling to hope, Chief Zan, but I have one more piece of evidence that I have not yet revealed. This was tucked into the left shoe. Can you confirm that this was written in the Empress's own hand?" Cafer dramatically produced a piece of paper that was folded many times and crumpled. He handed it to the Chief.

Smoothing the paper, Zan's eyes welled up with tears. "It is the Empress's handwriting. I would know it anywhere."

"What does it say?" Birger asked. His cheeks were rosy from all of his emotions.

Zan cleared his throat and blinked away his tears. "It says:

Please return this to the Castle Valiant.

My dear Council,

If you are reading this, something has gone terribly wrong. I am sorry that I have failed in my mission and left you as my mother did: with only a child to rule in my stead. Before I left, Mairwen pulled me aside and begged not to be given the title of heir unless the Fates explicitly said so. With this letter I honor her wish. Please give both my children my deep and abiding love. Long live Emperor Alaron."

"Can you get any clearer? She would not have let this note fall into anyone's hands unless she were gone." Cafer lowered his head as if sad to reveal this truth.

"But we have no body…" Zan pointed out.

"We may never have any," another councilman countered.

"At least wait until Anna returns from the Royal Tour before any announcement is made." Zan tried to buy some time before any actions were taken.

"That is only another week or two from now," Cafer warned.

"That should give the prince and princess time to mourn in private." The Chief furrowed his brow. "I will deliver the news to them. They deserve to know. Perhaps Nanny will have a way to soften the blow."

"If you think that is best," Cafer bowed obediently, hiding a smirk. The Council was playing right into his plans. With Alaron as heir, he could regain control. Even with Gandr's failure, his plan would succeed after all. All he had to do was make sure Aurora did not return.

—————-

Zan found a secluded place in the Spring Garden and fell to his knees. He held his head in his hands. Telling the prince and princess had not been easy. The twins had taken the news bravely, but the look of desperation in Mairwen's eyes would forever be etched in his memory.

"What now?" Alaron had asked. It was an excellent question. Zan had been unsure what to say, so he showed them their mother's letter. It said everything he could not. When he left, he caught a glimpse of the twins climbing into Nanny's lap and beginning to cry. That is why he had come to the garden: to weep.

"Why did you call the Empress to you if you knew she would die?" he called into the darkness. The Fates remained silent, as they had for weeks. "Or do you not know that she's dead? Aurora is dead!" Tears flowed freely. "What will happen to Valiant now?"

From a creeping vine along the wall of the garden, a lone firefly emerged. The disguised fairy had heard the Guardian's lament. Zan watched it lift into the air and head north. The light in the darkness lightened the burden on his spirit. He recalled the old saying: 'For where there is the littlest light; there is hope.'