Cecily watched as her maid, Valeria, bustled about the opulent, new room, pulling items from the trunks that the servants had just lugged up. Cecily was counting the crown jewels Valeria had just removed when Rory entered.

"Is your maid unpacking? I think everything I own will—" Cecily stopped at the sight of Rory's ashen face. "What is it?"

"What? What's what?" Rory asked, standing in her usual position—feet apart, shoulders back, and gaze straight on. Cecily paused. What had made her think something was amiss?

"Nothing. I thought I—trick of the light. For heavens' sake, Ror, at ease. You're supposed to look like a lady. Ladies don't stand like that."

As Rory relaxed into a more ladylike position, Cecily realized what had caught her eye. Rory's hands were in front of her, and Rory was meticulously picking under the first fingernail of her left hand—a sign of agitation Cecily had picked up on years ago when their friendship was young.

"Are you certain nothing's bothering you?" she asked, turning toward her vanity and gesturing for Valeria to assist her with her unruly locks.

"Why would anything be bothering me?" Rory asked.

A muscle in Cecily's jaw twitched. Another sign. Rory always answered questions with questions when upset. Pasting a smile on her face, Cecily asked Valeria's opinion on popular hairstyles, all the while keeping an eye on Rory in her vanity mirror.

Rory's methodical steps took her on a survey of the room, ending next to Cecily's trunks. She met Cecily's gaze in the mirror.

"—twisted like this. Do you like it, my lady? It's the latest in what the noblewomen are wearing." Valeria asked, snapping Cecily's attention back to the task at hand.

"Hmm, what? Oh." She stared at her reflection. Valeria had separated her hair into three parts, one on each side and one in the back, and had her hands around one segment, showing where the ties would go to bunch her hair into sections. "Oh yes, that's quite nice."

Cecily turned an eagle eye back on Rory, but she remained as before, though now an amused smirk tilted her lips.

"I guess I'm getting off scot-free in the hair department?" she said, moving closer to the vanity. "I don't think they can do that with this." She gestured from Cecily's long, thick tresses to her mess of shorn hair.

"Valeria," Cecily said with a narrowed gaze and a wicked grin, "what would you suggest we do with Lady Rory's hair? Poor thing lost it in a fire when she fell asleep too close to the embers in her room in Dellsby."

Rory stuck her tongue out at Cecily for the lie but said nothing as Valeria considered the blonde tuft atop her head. "Perhaps we could have a wig made, my lady. The wigmakers are skilled—several wigs were requested after the explosion destroyed the southern part of the city and many lost their hair to burns."

"Explosion?" Cecily spun around in her seat. "What's an explosion?" The word sounded familiar, but in Myrzellian, she couldn't be sure.

Valeria blanched and mumbled something under her breath.

"Please tell me—you have nothing to fear."

"The word is explosion in common, fuegre in my native village. It means . . . part of the building . . ." She stuck both of her fists together and pulled them apart, opening them and making a rasping noise in the back of her throat. "Something broke the building with great force."

"What could cause something like that?" Rory asked, straightening as she moved to Cecily's side.

"Magic." Valeria's cheeks reddened. "Bad magic. There was a fire and much fighting. Many died, and others were injured."

"Who caused the bad magic?" Cecily asked.

"A man who no longer lives. His name was Tertius, and he controlled magic in others as well as himself, but there weren't enough sorcerers in Myrzel for him to absorb much power. They chased him away, and he fled into Fangralee Forest."

"How did he die?" Rory asked, and Valeria's brow puckered.

"He fled into Fangralee Forest," she repeated, slower this time.

"Did they follow after him?" Rory glanced at Cecily, who shared her confusion. Running into a forest didn't guarantee death. Valeria pursed her lips, her back straightening.

"No man goes into Fangralee and lives."

"None?"

She hesitated. "Not usually. If they do not come back out within a fortnight, they are counted among the lost. We cannot recover their bodies, and therefore they cannot be given a proper burial. Without a grave facing west, they'll never find their way to the gates of the heavens."

Rory's brows arched, and she glanced at Cecily, who bit back a smile as she spoke. "What's so dangerous about Fangralee?" The name almost sounded familiar.

"Fangralee is the Foul Forest on the edge of the Mortal Marsh. The jungle is black magic itself and will eat men if they enter its midst. Dark creatures live in Fangralee—shapeshifters, arachnae, and many more."

"The Foul Forest?" Cecily and Rory said together—this was a name they understood.

"Fangralee," Rory repeated the word in the Dellsbian tongue, and Cecily nodded.

"That's why you think the sorcerer who caused the explosion is dead?" Cecily felt like the story finally made sense. Who could survive against arachnae or shapeshifters?

"Him and those who followed him into Fangralee." Valeria tied a final band into Cecily's hair.

"Followed? Who followed?" Cecily leaned forward, eager for more. Rory's eyes held a distant, confused expression.

"Many followed him into Fangralee, but others simply followed his ideas."

"Sorcerers?"

"Not only sorcerers, though there are some who did." She ducked down, lowering her voice as she spoke. "Last week, someone freed all of the prisoners in the dungeons who were awaiting trial or execution. They fled to the forest."

"Were any of them caught?"

"No. And no one knows who freed them. They were evil men—rapists, murderers, and thieves. Half of them were insurrectionists, hells-bent on dethroning the royals. One hundred in all."

Rory snapped to attention, nose scrunching, mouth twisting, and brows falling low. "Why in hells would you have that many prisoners at one time?"

Valeria drew back at Rory's fury. "All the criminals from all of our cities are brought to Chak Pixan. Only a king may hold a trial or execution. Until Prince Rakesh is crowned after he marries, we could not dispose of the criminals."

"Why did you have to wait? Why did Queen Adaliyah not order it?"

Valeria blinked, her face blank. "It is the law that it must be the king."

Cecily cocked her head to the side. "But Queen Adaliyah could have changed the law—I don't understand."

Valeria shook her head with furious speed. "No. It is the law. Lord Mercusius tried to find another way, but we cannot go against the magic of the law."

"Oh, all right." Cecily turned back to the mirror, an uncomfortable twisting in her stomach. "I do love what you've done with my hair, Valeria. It's very . . . interesting." The style was similar to having three braids, but instead of the strands of hair interlocking, each section was tied off in four separate portions like a bubble.

"This goes with it, Your Highness." Valeria brought forth a circular band the same color as the ones tied into Cecily's hair. She placed it on top of Cecily's head like a circlet crown. "There is an outfit in your closet to match." She moved toward the closet door, but Rory stopped her.

"Do all shapeshifters live in Fangralee?" she asked, though why, Cecily couldn't begin to fathom.

"They do, my lady, unless they have a master who forces them to remain elsewhere."

"Then you don't think one could grow up in, say, Opea or Myrzel?"

Valeria let out a funny little laugh. "All shapeshifters are born in Fangralee."

The maid scuttled off into the closet. Cecily frowned at Rory. "Why did you ask her that?"

"I was curious. Shapeshifters are interesting." Rory stared off in the direction of the main rooms. "Cecily, do you remember what I told you during training?"

"Never block when you can duck and jab?"

The ghost of a smile flickered across Rory's lips, and she shook her head. "No, about trust."

Cecily squinted at her reflection until the memory resurfaced. "Ah, yes. Trust is found in someone's eyes?"

Rory moved forward and knelt before her, taking her hands. "If you sense anything wrong, get away from it as fast as you can. I don't care if it's someone you thought you could trust—even if it's me. If you look a person in the eye and something doesn't feel right, trust your instincts."

"Rory, you're frightening me." She stared down at their hands, hers a stark contrast against Rory's pale skin.

"Promise me you'll be careful. Always seek trust in the eyes."

With that, Rory was on her feet and out the door before Valeria returned with a Myrzellian-style dress for Cecily to try on. Vibrant as a ruby, its silky fabric hung fluid over Valeria's arm. Cecily pushed to her feet.

"I have just the ruby to wear with that," she said, moving over to the small chest of crown jewels near her trunks. "It's a blood ruby. Ah, yes. Here it is." She plucked it from its place, nestled amongst the velvet cushion, and paused. She counted her jewels, including the ruby in her hand. Certain she was mistaken, she recounted them, reaching the same number again.

One of her crownjewels was missing.

Cecily noticed - THIS IS NOT A DRILL!

Next chapter you'll see a new POV not in the last version. Eek!