The next morning, the palace was bustling. Despite the entire kingdom and the royal family still mourning the loss of the Tsar—and now the unsettlingly bizarre and untimely death of his sister as well—the wheels within the court were turning...

"I hear that your father will be returning from the warfront soon," one of the girls said. A few of them had taken up a seat next to Nikolai—all cousins to him by marriage, rather than blood, just like Ruslan.

"Sooner than he'd have liked," Nikolai replied in a disinterested tone. "But it can't be avoided. They'll need everyone's approval if they're to put some wayward cousin from the southeastern swamps on the throne in time."

"Unlucky if he is crowned..."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Huh?" She sat a little straighter. "Oh, sorry...I just meant the...curse, is all."

"There's no curse," Nikolai snapped dismissively as he turned his spoon in his cup. "...That's silly."

"You say that, but nearly every direct heir to the crown has met an unfortunate end."

"You women are so gullible," he said, even as the fine hairs on the back of his own neck raised. "Just because you don't know the cause of something, doesn't mean that the supernatural is to blame."

"But it could be."

"It's not," Nikolai insisted.

"But if it were—"

"It is NOT!"

The three girls withdrew a bit. Like little birds, they'd fallen silent, passing careful looks between each other and then back at Nikolai.

"...Well, Aunt Raya couldn't have just died so suddenly by natural means," one said in a conspiratorial tone.

One gasped dramatically, placing a hand on her chest. "Do you think she was poisoned?"

"I think someone put a hex on her... Which means any of us could be the next victim."

Another shook her head, rubbing away her exaggerated shivers. "What a nightmare this is..." She folded her hands in her lap, then looked up suddenly. "Have you seen Ruslan yet, Nikolai?"

Her question perked up one of the others, who leaned forward. "Yes, how is Ruslan? I've not heard a word about your fiance from anyone who actually knows anything. It's simply maddening being kept so in the dark."

"Is your wedding truly still going to be tomorrow?" one of them asked before he could even answer the first.

"Does Ruslan even have a gown for the occasion?"

"Would Ruslan even wear one?"

A chorus of light giggles from the two caused the other to nudge them. "Stop, you're being so disrespectful of our poor cousin," she said, without actually sounding very sympathetic. "...But he'd have to, wouldn't he? They have to have a public wedding."

"Poor thing, with that gash on his face too... I'd be mortified."

Their chatter continued, but while they speculated on details of the coming ceremony, Nikolai was far more focused on the suspicions he'd formed last night about the circumstances surrounding Aunt Raya's death and who he believed could be responsible...

Nikolai then excused himself.

He hated being the only actual man in the royal court at times.

Sure, it left him very little in the way of capturing the girls' attention, but it also left him no one besides his personal servant to accompany him on his way down the corridors to confront the lord from the Hollows—a man of flesh and bone, not some spell casting specter as the women would have everyone convinced.

That was all just silly nonsense and conjecture, he told himself as he turned down the hall. He just needed to go get the man's alibi and that would be the end of it... Right?

But there was that nagging feeling at the back of his skull, that said he didn't know Alexander well, and what he did know of him, didn't omit murder as a possibility.

In fact, he wasn't sure how Alexander would take being directly confronted. Who knew, the man might turn feral. He was from the less-civilized part of the kingdom... But even his own presumption didn't make much logical sense... Alexander was very likely to take the throne. Would he really risk such an opportunity? And why? Similar to Alexander, Raya rarely conversed with others. He couldn't fathom what she could have done to offend anyone enough to deserve such an ugly end.

As the door came into view, Nikolai paused to think a little more on how he should approach the other man... Or... His gaze drifted to his servant as his finger curled around his own chin in thought.

Perhaps he needn't at all.

"Boyan," Nikolai said, motioning with his head towards the door. His servant's expression paled as his silent request sank in.

"M-me, sir?" the servant almost whimpered, but Nikolai only gave the poor man a condemning nod and waved him on.

Seeing Boyan timidly approach the strange lord's door and knock reluctantly, filled Nikolai with the unwavering feeling that he'd made the right choice of sending his servant in his stead, and they both waited anxiously in the hall for an answer...

...An answer that never came.

Boyan knocked again, but when—again—no one came to the door, the servant shrugged back at his master, likely hoping to be recalled, and that they might rejoin the others downstairs.

But Nikolai had no ounce of compassion, and waved him on once more. Boyan sighed, seemingly unsure what the next step forward was. Knock a third time? Loitering in or too close to a threshold was rude and a bad omen, and since Boyan refused to entertain the idea of even attempting the knob, he instead took a step back and cleared his throat...

"Ahem! Lord Sokolov?"

...No answer again.

The room and the hall were silent as the grave until Boyan saw a shadow reaching over him. He shrieked as he jumped back, stumbling over something in his rush to get away from the door, but regained himself upon seeing it was only his master.

He mumbled a quick apology to Nikolai, who'd suddenly grown much bolder after watching his servant's pathetic cowardice.

"Just move," Nikolai snipped. Surely, he could do better than this, and at least bring some swift conclusion to this whole matter.

Nikolai opened the door, fueled by impatience and contempt, all of which instantly ran out of him the moment he entered the dark room. The fear that he'd find another cadaver, just like the night before, gripped him, but only for a moment, before he realized Alexander wasn't in...

What he did observe, however, was that Alexander Vissarionovich had an odd obsession with black that clearly extended beyond just his dull wardrobe... It was everywhere. Black sheets cloaked the normal dressings on the windows, and the bed, and the furniture, and... there were bizarre herbs and artifacts strewn around, and on a writing desk, next to an ornate, black mirror, the likes of which Nikolai had never seen, he found something even more peculiar—Raya Polina Makarov's favorite necklace.

Nikolai could scarcely recall a time he hadn't seen the piece around her neck. He snatched the item and swiftly turned to leave.

This should be all he needed...

When Ruslan woke, the first thing he was aware of was that he had a splitting headache. The second, was that his eyelids felt swollen, and his throat dry.

"Aa-ah-ah. Slowly," someone said, far closer to him than he would've liked, as the blurry darkness of sleep fell away and he became aware that he was in his bedroom. "Drink this."

"What is it?" Ruslan managed, taking the cup that was being pressed to his lips, but not drinking. The potency of the concoction's scent made his stomach turn.

"Medicine," Doctor Petrova answered. "It'll help you feel better."

"...You're certain?" The sound of his mother's voice made Ruslan's eyes open wide, and he nearly choked on the steaming liquid. She was somewhere in his room, but with most of the curtains on his bed's canopy drawn, he couldn't see her.

"Yes, Your Majesty," answered one of the clerics... Ruslan would be happy if he never saw a single one of them ever again after last night... "Since the tsarevna has been under emotional stress and has been neglecting to perform daily prayers, her weakened spiritually left her vulnerable to evil energies, which caused the outburst. No physical ailments made themselves apparent during Doctor Petrova's crude examination..."

"Evil energies..." his mother echoed. "Did you get rid of them?"

"Of course, your majesty," Cleric Stanislav said, but his confidence didn't seem to convince Lisa.

"She threatened me," the tsarina said.

"With a table knife," Aunt Oksana added, as if the information had been necessary. Of course, she'd be present too...

"Yes," the cleric said, "We've meticulously conducted spiritual cleansing for nearly twelve hours. The evil that had seized Ruslana has surely been banished..."

Ruslan spit the medicinal liquid forcefully back into his cup.

"Calm, your highness," Doctor Petrova whispered.

Ruslan was trembling with fury, but he somehow managed to keep his voice restrained, and his volume low. "Evil spirits?!" he hissed. "She had my Darya slaughtered!"

"Shh-shh," the Doctor urged. "Whatever injustice you believe the tsarina did to you—bear it. Trust me. Lest you want to make things worse for yourself."

"Doctor Petrova?" Lisa called, causing the doctor to quickly stand.

"How unsightly does that cut look? There's no swelling, is there?" His mother's voice drew closer, and in seconds she was standing at his bedside, where they now had a clear view of each other. Her expression was strange, almost like she'd not expected to see him. "She's awake..."

"Yes, only just now, Your Majesty," Doctor Petrova said. "She'll need a lot of tea, soup, and the like. Things to hydrate her, and to be kept warm. But no, as long as it's cleaned and tended to properly, the cut on her cheek should heal just fine."

"Good," Lisa said, her callous gaze still locked with Ruslan's. "You're excused."

As the doctor gathered his instruments and vials, all Ruslan could think about was whether or not he could strangle the tsarina...

Would it take that much force? Would he have the strength in his current state? Surely, she'd fight back...

...Perhaps he should hit her in the head first.

His mother frowned, reaching out to touch his unharmed cheek, but he shrunk away as much as the heavy blankets on top of him would allow. His mother's pitying look disappeared just as quickly. "Get your rest and do as the doctor said," she ordered, smoothing her dress. "You're going to be a bride tomorrow, and you must look presentable."

Ruslan didn't speak.

He couldn't even look at her now. Not even to imagine what she'd look like lifeless...

Any guesses to why Alexander had Aunt Raya's necklace? 👀

And what do you think about the wedding? Could this maybe turn out to be blessing in disguise or is it giving certain doom? 😶

Thanks so much for the support, everyone!!