2407 Diori 31, Jyda

April's footsteps against the corridors bedecked with decorations fit for the Imperial Palace but were somehow found here. Tapestries bearing patterns of random colors reminded her of the colors of clouds during sunset. Sometimes, when light hit the clouds at the right time, it could produce such pretty hues of purple, pink, or orange. Sometimes, especially during the foggy mornings in the villa, the phenomenon could happen in the morning too.

Servants dressed in dark dresses and vests patrolled the area, going on their usual business of transporting cleaning materials, sweeping the floors, and making sure the rugs were still as pristine as ever. As she passed, everyone ducked their heads at her and she returned the gesture with a nod of her own.

The familiar bend leading to the meeting hall crept in April's vision. She drew closer to the wall to her right by instinct. There might be someone going the opposite way and might bump into her. That was, if that person hadn't heard of the "walk to the right at all times" rule. April had that happen to her so many times it had become more awkward and annoying more than anything.

Today, however, she was glad she chose to creep forward close to the wall. That way, nobody would be able to notice her coming. Mostly because when she neared the corner, voices talked in hushed but lively tones. They seemed to think they're being responsible and discreet.

"Have you seen her stand up and yell at us like she owns the place?" one Adviser whom April had taken to calling Bald Head said. He might be part of a formidable family in Falkirta—one that provided government officials like a prolific kherond—but April couldn't care less. But now that he's talking about her behind her back like this, she might start. "She wasn't even the Potentate. Elami is too good at keeping her job to give that poor upstart a chance."

Upstart. How dare these people tell her what she was? She wasn't an upstart. She was someone who cared about their territory more than they ever will. Why couldn't they understand that? Oh, considering they have brains as heavy as a feather floating in the wind, they probably wouldn't get that. April just has to put up with them while she works on getting what she wants.

And right now, it was to get their attention on policy changes regarding Hera's stables and of course, that "small" issue with her brother. To push on with her plan, she needed the court's approval first. If not, she could kiss that plan goodbye or she would have to keep trying. After all, her brother's more important than a batch of imported jasclume ores.

"She wasn't even that competent," one of the Advisers interjected. This one was a woman. There were only a handful of women in the court. April would have a fun time making their number smaller. "Her ideas are so bland. They lack originality and they're childish. Her philosophy could also use some work."

Okay, that's it. If it's a fight they want, a fight they would get. April was grateful she wore her armor today. After all, she had to be prepared for any eventuality some of these witches made a move against her. She stepped forward, picturing the first face she would swing a fist to just to teach them a lesson.

"Today's a good morning, Princess," a voice said behind her.

She whirled, arm swinging in a wide arc. A face sped into view. It belonged to someone she knew but for the life of her, she couldn't remember his name. Before her arm could land a blow, the man whipped forward, caught her wrist, and twisted it behind her. Her cheek slammed against the wall as a heavy weight pressed against her back.

"Unhand me, you heathen," she said through gritted teeth. The hold didn't show any sign of loosening. "How dare you lay a hand on the Princess?"

The man chuckled. Oh, come on. What was his name? "You are poised to hit me first," he said. Dark hair as black as tar hung from his head in straight locks. It looked like a void from April's periphery. "I merely acted on the will of self-defense. I will make the same case in the tribunal should you decide to push for one and waste all of our time."

April shrugged him off with a wild buck of her head backward. Before the plaits of her braids for today hit his nose, he drew away, ultimately letting her go. April rubbed her wrist, disgust already curling in her gut, swallowing her confidence whole. This was the reason she didn't like to be touched. Especially by men. If she could plunge a sword into him, all the better.

"What makes you think I'll push for a tribunal?" she snapped. "You think I'm that predictable like your Adviser friends, do you?"

The man gave an amused snort. Indeed, the black and white robe he wore signified his status and his reason to be here in front of her. "I'm sure you know that if you continue to step out of line, those people you refer to as buzz heads will find something to get you off their tails," he said, bracing a hand on his hip. "And with how reckless you're being, it will be easy to fault you for something."

April scoffed, stepping away from the wall in case he pins her against it again. "The fact that you're warning me means there's already a plan," she narrowed her eyes. He remained a few steps away, his brown eyes tracing her movements. "I'll root out every single one of you and push you off Falkirta's edge myself."

"Bold words, Princess," the Adviser said. His pearly white but crooked teeth flashing in the light. "I'll wait for the time you make true to them."

He strode away before April could reply, leaving her clenching her fists at her sides and gritting her teeth alone in the corridor. That's when his name clicked in her mind. Melron Isarel. The most influential Adviser in court that even Elami listens to him. He didn't speak much during the court meetings but when he did, it was usually what was followed. That's why he had the gall to speak like that to her. April laughed to herself. The sound that reached her ears was without humor but full of derision.

Well, as much as he thought she was disposable as he implied, he wasn't far down the road. He's in the same boat as hers and she better make sure she does to them what they were still planning to do to her. In this dangerous game they're playing, April has to be faster and otherwise more ruthless. Melron wasn't wrong when he said April should stop being reckless.

From now on, she'd not be because she'd be something else entirely.

She'd be a storm to uproot their fields which they wouldn't see coming.

That afternoon, April dropped by the stables, bearing another letter addressed to the Imperial palace. This time, she wasn't asking about the murders. She was making sure they stopped.

Hera was brushing one of the dagrinis in its stall, the rhythmic scratching sounds echoing in the air. The smell of fragrant soap meant for dagrine fur trumped the usual odor of manure and dried hay in the air. Silent huffs and mild whines filled April's ears as she strode past their stalls and came towards the one where Hera was in.

"Hey, what brings you here so early?" Hera's voice sounded strained as she bent down to secure a bottle near her foot. She squeezed some sort of white froth into the brush. Then, she left it atop the dagrine's flank before bending down once more to draw water from her pail. "Don't tell me you've got another favor to exact from me."

April opened her mouth to confirm it but closed it again. How come Hera could read her so easily despite attending to a cart animal?

Instead, she watched Hera retake the brush from the flank and started scrubbing once more. The dagrine stayed still, more than April had anticipated. How had Hera tamed these creatures under her care? It's amazing.

Hera was in her usual clothes today—just a plain, dark-colored tunic, tight-fitting trousers, and her ocher hair in a single braid. Her dark brown wings were folded and tucked up close to her form. April's eyes then landed on the strip of cloth wrapped around Hera's waist, tucked into one of the belt loops of her trousers. That's a new addition, for sure.

The sounds of water splashing against the stable's bare floor were the only noise between them for a while. Hera finished bathing that specific dagrine after she upended the bucket itself down the animal's flank. Then, she untangled the cloth wrapped around her waist, and draped it over the dagrine. April watched as the cloth darkened from an off-white shade to a darker gray. Oh, so that's what it was for.

"Well?" Hera retrieved the bottle of soap and the bucket from the floor. Then, she moved out of the stall, forcing April to step aside to make room for her. "I'm sure you have better things to do than just standing there without speaking. What is it?"

April snapped out of whatever reverie she plunged into and drew out the letter she had hidden inside her half of a breastplate. She was about to hand it over to Hera, followed by her request when something clanged by the stable's door. They both turned to the stable's exit. April knitted her eyebrows. That's strange. Who else enters this place apart from Hera? As far as April was concerned, her friend was the only employee here.

"DId you hear that?" Hera asked, her features arranged into a confused curiosity.

Her memory flashed to when she was practicing and the sliver of the shadow watching her. Had they followed her here as well?

Better be safe than sorry. April squared her shoulders and clapped her hands together. "Why don't you show me how you fix the dagrinis' hooves? I hear you polish them until they shine."

Hera's eyebrows creased. She opened her mouth to ask what's going on but April silenced her with a stern look. Being the perceptive fellow she was, she got the message. She laughed, albeit a little forced, and said, "Of course!" she said a little too loudly for the benefit of whoever's watching and listening to their conversation somewhere outside the stable. "I scrub and polish these walkers until they can blind anyone who looks!"

April winced. Subtle but it could work.

Hera led April into the next stall by the wrist before urging her to crouch. She reached to her left, towards where a long rake was leaning against the stable's corner. Once her fingers closed around the rake's handle, she began banging it against the stall's wall. April's eyes widened as a few dagrinis neighed in alarm and fear. Before she could ask what her friend was doing, Hera clicked her tongue then said aloud, "Ah, here it is. My polishing tool!"

Then, Hera began scratching her boots against the ground, imitating the sound of hooves being polished. "Okay, you've got to tell me what's going on," Hera said through the noise wafting around them. "Why did you tense up like a kherond under pixie lights?"

"Because I'm being followed. Watched," April dared to rise from her crouch to poke her head past the stall's walls. The gates to the stables remain slightly ajar from when the stalker knocked it open. She didn't even need to guess. She's certain she'd find a fallen black feather by the entrance. That sprite shed like a good tree in autumn.

"I saw them once when I was training in the grounds," April whispered. "I think they're wary of my activities since my stunt in the meeting hall with the advisers. They're watching me."

Then, her earlier talk with Merlon and the Advisers' unabashed backstabbing came to mind. That's when the realization clicked. "Dear Nira," April breathed. "They're really looking to get rid of me."

"By 'getting rid', you meant?" Hera's dark purple eyes were filled with alarm April hadn't counted on seeing anywhere near Hera's face.

"You know it," April made a cutting gesture past her throat. Now, understanding lit her expression up.

"Oh," was Hera's only answer. Her boots continued brushing against the floor. Wasn't she getting tired of doing that?

April passed the letter she wrote to Hera. "I need you to investigate more about my brother," she said. "Bring this directly into the High Queen's desk. It's important nobody knew the existence of my letters, especially now that I've put a target on my back."

Hera gave April a grim nod. "Got it," she said. "Are you sure you still want to pursue this?"

Without missing a beat, April pressed her lips into the thinnest line she could. "Of course," she said. "I need to get to the bottom of this, at least."

Hera stopped scratching and stood up. "Oh, my!" she exclaimed. "Look at those hooves. Sparkling clean!"

"I agree," April replied. "Should we move to the others?"

"Absolutely!" Hera said. She began scratching her boots once more, agitating more dagrinis in the nearby stables.

Meanwhile, April edged backwards, keeping her footsteps light and her wings tight against her form. She reached the stable's door and ran out, not bothering to say goodbye to her friend. Then, from the corner of her eye, she saw a blur of black, zipping to the sky at a speed she had never encountered in an air sprite before. The rustling of the leaves left by the wind they stirred on their launch was the only proof they were even in the same space as April.

She lost them again.

A curse flitted out of her lips. Black wings. Perhaps, a remnant of a trail curling in and out of the places they had been. But trails were hard to track even with the help of an excellent varichria. What's more, they fade after some time, too. There were also a whole lot of sprites with black wings throughout Falkirta. Searching through the sea of suspects with just that to go on was going to take lifetimes.

In short, April had nothing she could use to find out who was tracking her. Moreover, it seemed like Merlon was telling the truth all along. If she doesn't fall in line, they would have the power to dispose of her with them knowing all of her movements and involvements.

April balled her fists. New plan and new objective, then.