Felitïa.

In the Room in her head, the line of figures extended into the distance, the later ones still blurred beyond recognition.

Felitïa.

It was odd. The voice in this part of the Room overlapped itself so many times that it sounded like dozens of voices speaking against each other, but it was identical to the voice that came from the Staff. They even said virtually the same things. Yet the Room’s voice was comforting, while the Staff’s tested her every drop of patience. Perhaps it was because she could silence the one in the Room or bring it back whenever she wanted. The Staff followed its own schedule.

Felitïa, you must listen to me.

For now, the Staff was leaning in the corner of her room in Lord Padara’s home, while she sat in his study. The distance was far enough that she was reasonably certain it couldn’t reach her here. There was only the voice of the Room.

You will soon forget this, but you must remember.

That was something the Staff had never said, though the Room’s voice said it from time to time. Was it the occasional different word that made it more comforting? Probably not. It wasn’t like she had remembered whatever it was she was supposed to remember. It was something that had frustrated her even before the Staff.

The voice in the Room also called out the names of the people in the line, and she had consider the possibility that was a clue to what she needed to remember.

Zandrue.

Zandrue hovered before her, every physical detail, from the split end of a strand of blonde hair to the tip of a cracked toenail, apparent to Felitïa. There were the recessed horns that Felitïa had somehow failed to notice in the past, and the scar on Zandrue’s back that she had acquired at some point while Felitïa had been on Scovese.

Rudiger.

As the voice called out each name, she moved to that person—or rather, they moved to her? No, there wasn’t any real movement of any kind. Her mind’s eye just focused on each one as if she were standing directly in front. She saw every minute detail. Rudiger had acquired quire a few new scars in Ninifin, but his wounds had healed now.

Borisin.

Borisin looked as he always did. Big. Powerful. She hoped, one day, she would get to spend enough time with horse to find out what he...well...was.

Meleng.

Meleng had apparently hit his head as there was a bump on it.

Corvinian.

She could see the exact point on each strand of hair where the black dye ended and the natural colour began.

Jorvanultumn.

Jorvan was looking stronger, less sunburnt. His broken wing was on the heal. The delicate bones were knitting back together properly. There was a good chance he would not lose his ability to fly.

Quilla.

There seemed to be a sadness in Quilla’s eyes, though that was probably Felitïa’s own projection. She saw physical details on these figures, not mental or emotional ones.

Kindanog.

The odd one out. She had not really met him, only seen him from a distance. The only revealed figure who had not joined up with her in some fashion.

Every time she saw Kindanog here, she couldn’t help think of Maneshka. She’d promised Maneshka the next time they saw each other, she would learn Maneshka’s language. But would they see each other again? She had to see Kindanog at some point, so hopefully that would bring her back to Maneshka, but there was no guarantee. Maneshka and Kindanog spent much of their lives apart.

Nin-Akna.

Nin-Akna had a bruise on her arm that was new. Had something happened?

After that, the overlap of voices made it impossible to distinguish specific names. The next person in line remained a blur. Maybe an inch or two under six feet in height and thin in stature. She couldn’t be sure of anything else, no matter how hard she tried to focus the image. There were more beyond that one, how many she still couldn’t be sure. Every time she tried to look farther down the line, something shunted her vision back to Nin-Akna. She wasn’t even sure how many more there were beyond the first blurred figure. Two? Three? Fifty?

Felitïa, you must listen to me. You will soon forget this, but you must remember.

If the line held a clue to what she was supposed to remember, she couldn’t find it, no matter how much she looked. All she could do was keep looking and hope one day, she’d notice something she’d previously missed. It had happened before—like Zandrue’s horns. It could happen again.

With a thought, she dismissed the voices and line-up. Instead, she focused on the distant grey walls—another mystery she still needed to figure out.

“Felitïa! Nin-Akna’s here!”

Or that could wait for another time.

Felitïa opened her eyes.

Corvinian stood in the doorway of Lord Padara’s study, Nin-Akna behind him. “She’s better!”

Felitïa stood up and made her way around the crates and piles of books to greet them just inside the door. She hugged Nin-Akna. “I was so worried.”

“Thanks.” Nin-Akna was tense and not relaxed in the hug, and she pulled away from it after only a brief moment. She looked around the room. “What a mess.”

Only the three of them were there at the moment. Lord Padara was attending to matters of state and had taken his wife with him. Harrick, ironically, had returned to his ship to check on Nin-Akna.

Felitïa shrugged. “Lord Padara has a lot of stuff.”

“I always got the impression Folith nobles lived in bigger, fancier places than this,” Nin-Akna said. She stepped carefully about the room. “This place is big compared to a noble villa in Ninifin, but still not as big as I imagined.” She looked back at Felitïa and smiled, but stress, annoyance, and anxiety emanated from her.

Felitïa nodded. “It is small compared to most noble palaces. Lord Padara likes a simple life, apparently. Are you okay?”

Nin-Akna turned her head aside. “No hiding things from you, as usual. I was attacked on the way here. They were Darkers. I interrogated one, but didn’t learn much. I did learn Mister Speedy’s name, though. It’s Omer Ebwood. It doesn’t help us much because he moves around. The guy I interrogated said he waits for Omer to contact him. He said Omer wants me dead.”

“I think he wants us all dead,” Felitïa said. “At least we have something to call him other than Mister Speedy.”

“Why did you leave me alone? On a strange ship with a bunch of Folith strangers?”

Felitïa lowered her head. “Sorry about that. After you were poisoned, I called out for help. The person who answered turned out to be Lord Padara’s grandson, Harrick. He’s my...I’m not sure the correct terminology. Step-cousin? He’s Cerus’s cousin, though the relationship is through Cerus’s mother, not mine. Anyway, he took you to his ship where his physician looked after you. Lord Padara invited me here. I delayed coming until I knew you were stable, but I didn’t want to cause offence at my absence. Turns out he’s pretty easy-going as far as I can tell, and wouldn’t have taken offence, but I didn’t know that at the time. Sorry again.”

Nin-Akna shrugged. “It’s okay.” She turned away again and continued looking around the room. Annoyance was still flowing from her. “So what’s the plan? When do we get moving?”

“Lord Padara has offered me the use of his library here. It’s a long-shot, but there might be something of use. I’m going to spend tomorrow going through what books he has. We’ll only stay a day or two. We’ve been invited to dinner tonight.”

“Dinner?”

“Yes, with Lord Padara and his family.”

“I didn’t think they let non-Foliths have dinner with Foliths.”

“Some places they don’t,” Felitïa said. “But Lord Padara really seems a nice, old man. He expressed concern for you even though he’s never met you. It’ll be a good opportunity for you to make some contacts if you’re going to be Ninifin queen one day.”

“Ninifin queens don’t usually have much contact with the outside world.”

“You could.”

Nin-Akna looked back at Felitïa and frowned.

“Or not. Your choice. But I would like it if you came to dinner with me and Corvinian tonight.”

Nin-Akna shrugged. “Sure. You’re right. It’ll be a good experience.”

“You’ll need formal wear, of course.” That was something Felitïa hadn’t thought of until now. “So will I.” She didn’t have any formal wear with her. She’d lost most of her clothing in Ninifin. “Maybe we can borrow something from someone, though maybe not. There probably aren’t many women your size and build amongst the Padara women.”

“That’s fine,” Nin-Akna said. “I have formal clothing.”

“Oh?”

Nin-Akna indicated what she was wearing. “My uniform and armour as part of the Youth Guard. It is both practical and formal wear. In fact, nothing is more formal.”

Felitïa smirked. “That’s not quite what I meant by formal wear, but okay.” It always amused her when noble traditions got challenged a little. Besides, she got the impression Amar Padara would not be offended. She was tempted to forgo formal clothing herself, but decided against it. Nin-Akna showing up in armour might not be the formality expected, but it was still formal. Felitïa would be snubbing formality entirely. No, she’d better find something to wear.

“Want to help me find a dress?” she asked Nin-Akna.

Nin-Akna stared a her, then looked away. “I don’t...that is, I wouldn’t be much help. I’ve never worn a dress. Youth Guards don’t wear dresses. Even if we did, they wouldn’t be Arnorin dresses.”

“I know,” Felitïa said, “but I could use the company. And the moral support. I’m about to ask a bunch of people I’ve never met if I can borrow their clothes.”

Nin-Akna peered back at her and smirked. The annoyance coming from her was starting to ebb away. “I can understand that. All right. I’ll go with you.”

“Can I come too?” Corvinian asked.

Felitïa had half-forgotten he was there. He had a way of doing that—being there in plain sight, but going unnoticed. It was probably his lack of a mental presence, though Felitïa wondered if that was all it was. She should remember to ask Zandrue if she had noticed the same thing—except Zandrue wasn’t there. She should ask Nin-Akna.

“No, you’ll need formal clothes too. I’ll ask Harrick if he can find something for you, and you can go with him.”

Corvinian frowned. “Fine.”

Felitïa offered Nin-Akna her arm. “Shall we see what we can find?”

* * * * *

The grey walls were more distinct here. More solid somehow, and their shade of grey stood out more than the grey of the surroundings. It was weird because everything else was less distinct, barely a shadow of what they normally were.

But that was what dreams were like.

Felitïa’s dreams these days were usually short and intense. The shortness was probably due to how little sleep she got. There wasn’t time for long dreams before the Staff woke her up again. The intensity was probably due to the proximity of Nin-Akna’s nightmares. But she had been in separate rooms from Nin-Akna the last two nights, so her dreams had been calmer.

This was the first time Felitïa could ever recall dreaming about the Room though. Since the Room was only a mental construct, as were dreams, she was surprised at first that this dream version had that dream-like haze to it—like any other dream—rather than the more solid structure she’d given it over the years. As she thought about it, though, it made sense. She was asleep, so her mind wasn’t focused. It couldn’t give it any more substance than what she was seeing.

So why were the grey walls so much more solid? Another dream thing, she supposed.

What surprised her more was, she was aware she was dreaming. She’d had occasions in the past when she’d been aware she was dreaming, but on those occasions, it was more that she was dreaming that she knew she was dreaming. Now, it was like her mind was awake while her body slept.

But if that was the case, surely she could give the Room its usual structure and solidity.

She focused.

The black walls took solid shape, rising up into infinity, and the floor took on its polished finish.

That was better.

The grey walls were still more solid and distinct than normal, though—and for the first time, she could make out details on the surface of the walls themselves. Whereas her black walls were smooth and featureless, the grey walls showed a pattern of stone bricks laid on top of each other. Was this new detail a product of her dream, or an actual feature she had discovered? She would have to check when she woke up.

Felitïa.

Not the Staff, just the voices in her head.

Since this is a dream, does that mean you’ll talk to me? she asked.

Felitïa, you must listen to me.

I guess not. It had been worth a try.

FELITÏA!

Felitïa gasped and her eyes flew open. Damn Staff.

Lon glared at her from where he was perched on her pillow beside her face.

“Oh come one,” she said. “I don’t believe for one moment that you were asleep and I woke you. You sleep less than I do.”

He continued to stare at her, while Nesh darted past behind him.

“See? Nesh is awake and no way you’d let him be awake while you sleep.”

Lon lowered his head, but kept looking at her.

Felitïa sat up. How long had she managed to sleep? There was no light creeping in from the edges of the curtains, so it must not be dawn yet. She should go back to sleep.

Felitïa.

The Staff had been even more insistent since they’d arrived at Lord Padara’s. She should have left it with Nin-Akna or Corvinian overnight. No, she told Lord Padara she would keep it with her. She was beginning to think she would never get a good night’s sleep again.

FELITÏA!

She sat there a short while and let the Staff yell at her some more. When it showed no signs of stopping after a few minutes, she decided there wasn’t much point trying to go back to sleep. She climbed out of bed and dressed. She was glad she’d turned down the Padaras’ offer to supply her with a handmaid while she was here. She’d hate to wake that poor soul at this time.

She made a point of putting on her travelling clothes and not the dress she’d borrowed from Harrick’s sister Wendy. She and Wendy were close in size, but it had not been a good fit—too big in the chest mainly. Still, it had been better than nothing.

She regretted taking Nin-Akna with her when she’d gone in search of a dress. She had thought it would be a good opportunity to help put the young woman at ease with something that was different from their usual routine and wasn’t likely to result in a fight to the death. However, she hadn’t considered the reactions of the women they met with. It seemed the other Padaras were not as open and friendly to non-Foliths as Harrick and his grandfather were.

Wendy and her sister-in-law Lusha had been eager to help Felitïa, but they had been quite dismissive of Nin-Akna. Felitïa had overheard them at one point whispering about what kind of savage covered their entire body in tattoos.

“Someone intelligent and dedicated, with a good heart,” Felitïa had told them. “Someone devoted to her people and her friends, willing to give her life to protect both.”

They hadn’t taken that well and their whispered conversations after were about Felitïa as well.

Nin-Akna had remained quiet most of the time, though her frustration and anger rose slowly the whole time. At least dinner itself had been more pleasant.

FELITÏA!

She hurried to finish dressing, then pulled out one of her supply packs and retrieved The Foretellings of Eleuia from it. Picking up the heavy book was still a strain on her fingers, but once she had it tucked under her arm, she had no further difficulty.

FELITÏA!

Yelling at me really doesn’t do you any good. Go back to sleep and leave me alone.

FELITÏA!

She walked into the hall and closed the door behind her. The Staff continued to scream at her, but it became less noticeable the farther she walked from her room. By the time she reached Lord Padara’s study, it had faded away completely.

A lone guard slumped against the wall in the corridor leading to Lord Padara’s study. His eyes half-closed, he didn’t notice Felitïa until she passed right in front of him. As soon as she did, he shot to attention, his armour banging noisily against the wall. “Your Highness,” he blurted.

Felitïa went straight to the study door. “Some late-night study,” she told him.

He nodded. “Of course, your Highness. If you need anything, I’ll be right here.”

She shook her head. “I’ll be fine. You can go back to sleep.”

He blushed. “As...as you command, your Highness.”

“It’s not a command.” She opened the study door and stepped inside, then closed the door behind her again, leaving the guard in the hall. She suspected he was supposed to be patrolling, not staying in one spot, but she also didn’t care. She knew what it was like to be overtired. If she was in his position, she’d be tempted to take a nap too.

The study was dark, but Felitïa knew there was a case of spills on the shelves near the door. Feeling first for the shelves, she put the book of Ninifin secrets down, and then found the spills. She took one and returned to the hall. As she’d suspected, the guard had move on. She lit the spill with the nearest hall torch, returned to the study, and lit some candles—not all the ones in the room, but just enough to give her some light to read by. She placed the lit candles around the spot on the floor she had cleared earlier in the day, retrieved the book, and sat down to read.

Lord Padara had said she could use his desk as long as she moved nothing on it. That included the books piled on the chair, so Felitïa had contented herself with the floor. It wasn’t the most comfortable for reading, but she didn’t mind. It helped keep her focused. It was also a convenient spot for meditating and practising her concentration exercises.

She placed the book in front of her and opened the cover. The Foretellings of Eleuia, as Recorded by Her Devoted Disciple Nin-Papan in the Days Leading to Her Death at the Hands of the Dragon and the Hated Isyar. There hadn’t been much opportunity to look at it during their journey. With her fingers in splints, it had been very difficult to open it and turn pages without help. Corvinian had eagerly offered his assistance, but Nin-Akna had also needed his help with the camp and horses. There had been little time left over for him to help Felitïa. So the book had spent most of the journey packed away. It had been a couple weeks since Felitïa had last tried to read it.

The lack of opportunity to read it meant she hadn’t yet found any of the passages that referred to her—or, more specifically, the Will-Breaker. The book wasn’t indexed and Nin-Papan appeared to have written the “foretellings” in the exact order Eleuia had given them, which didn’t seem to have any order to it at all. The predictions jumped around in time and location. Most of them were about the Ninifins, but not all, and they covered all kinds of topics from drought to the deaths of queens.

Luckily, Nin-Papan’s writing style—or perhaps it was the general pattern of Ninifin writing—was concise and used straight-forward language, making it easy to skim. Nonetheless, Felitïa paused on the very first prediction, which had given her pause every time.

The time approaches 10,000. When 10,000 is reached, the decision must be made: hell or hell.

Ten thousand what? Days? Weeks? Months? Years? Something else? And measured from when? The statement sounded like the ten thousand whatever were already well in progress by the time Eleuia made it. Then there was the decision, which wasn’t a decision at all, given both options were the same.

Felitïa wished she had an annotated copy. In the two centuries since Nin-Papan had written it, the Ninifin priests studying it must have made some. But she hadn’t had time to search for one.

Luckily, most of the predictions in the book were not as cryptic as that first one. Indeed, most were straight-forward.

In 2251, heavy rains will cause flooding in the city that will bear our people’s name.

Straight-forward—and not very interesting.

And there were a lot of them.

Felitïa flipped through page after page, only glancing at most of them, but occasionally reading one in full if it caught her eye.

Be on constant vigilant look-out for the Isyar, who will bring the weight of time upon you. The intended of this message will know who she is when she reads it.

She couldn’t be sure if that referred to one Isyar or multiple since, in Ninifin just like in Arnorgue, Isyar did not have different forms in the singular or plural, and Ninifin verbs didn’t change based on number either, relying on the nouns or pronouns to distinguish number.

In 2306, an assassination attempt on Folith royalty will be prevented.

That was strange. That was Felitïa’s birth year, but she couldn’t recall hearing of an assassination attempt on any Royalty in her lifetime. Queen Gabriella had been assassinated a few years earlier, but that had obviously not been prevented. She would have to look that up sometime. It would be good to know whether this prediction and others that had passed their prescribed times had come true.

It occurred to her that she had been reading all these foretellings as if they were true, and that disturbed her. Just as the idea that people had correctly predicted her own activities disturbed her, it disturbed her that she could so readily accept these as true without verifying them. Exhaustion. It had to be her exhaustion.

After some time—she wasn’t quite sure how long, but a couple hours or more—she found the first of what she was looking for: a mention of the name Will-Breaker.

When the nations of the world come together in meeting for the first time since the days of old, the Will-Breaker will first make herself known.

That was pretty much exactly what she had already been told. It offered no new information. However, she knew there were other mentions of her. She just had to keep reading. With a yawn, she continued flipping through the book.

Her eyes were getting heavy, and she was beginning to lose track of what she’d already read or looked at. Maybe she should return to her room and try to sleep more. Maybe the Staff had calmed down by now. Or maybe she could sleep on the floor here.

Just a couple more pages. She could stay focused for that.

Felitïa!

The Staff? It was reaching her here?

In Ninifin, it had reached her from inside the Grand Temple while she was outside. Was she farther away now? She couldn’t be sure.

Felitïa! Be wary!

Her eyes shot open, and she realised she had fallen asleep. Her neck hurt from slumping forward. She looked up to see the room’s door open and Lord Padara standing there.

The old man blinked several times. “My apologies, your Highness. I didn’t expect to find you here at this time.” He walked into the room, his cane clacking loudly in the otherwise quiet night.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d get some studying in.” Had the Staff said something new to her, or had she only dreamt that?

Lord Padara tutted. “You’re much too young to be an insomniac like me. You need to relax.”

Be wary!

Of Lord Padara? Can you actually talk to me?

“Meditate with the prayer beads I gave you. I think you’ll find them useful.” Padara continued his slow way across the room. His gaze kept moving back and forth from Felitïa to something on his desk.

Felitïa tensed as he got closer, and readied to put him to sleep if necessary. Nervousness and worry emanated from him. But why? Was he worried she would look at something he didn’t want her to see? He had left her alone in here previously without any hint of worry. Had something changed?

“They’ve done amazing things for me over the years.” He reached her and continued past. “Unfortunately, when you get as old as me, there’s little that can let your weary bones rest other than death.” He chuckled. “And I’m not ready for death yet.” He reached his desk and stared over it.

Felitïa tried to follow his face, but all she could see were papers, paper weights, ink jars, and feather pens—the same things that, as best she could recall, had been there every time she’d been in the room. “I’ll be sure to try them.”

He sighed and turned to look at her. “I must apologise, your Highness. You don’t need a silly old man like me lecturing you.”

Felitïa closed the book and picked it up. “There’s no need to apologise.” She stood up. “I would hardly call what you’ve said lecturing. I very much appreciate the gift of the beads, and I will certainly use them. For now, though, I think I’m going to go back to bed. I was starting to doze off just before you got here. I won’t disturb you any further.”

His feelings of worry and anxiety diminished, and then vanished as he smiled. “Of course, your Highness. I won’t detain you. Pleasant dreams.”

“Thank you, your Lordship.” She bowed her head and he returned the gesture. Then she left the room.

Be wary! the Staff called as she opened the door and was stepping through.

Of what? She closed the door. Please tell me.

The Staff didn’t reply.

Felitïa shook her head and returned to her room.

Felitïa, the Staff greeted her upon her return.

What are you trying to tell me? Be wary of what?

Felitïa.

Felitïa groaned and returned the book to her pack. She undressed and climbed into bed. Lon crawled out from under the blankets onto her chest, and stared up at her. Nesh joined him a moment later. She stroked their heads a few times, closed her eyes, and tried to sleep while the Staff continued to call her endlessly.

Sleep would not come.