Stars shattered around me as I strode through the dim entrance of the throne room, my footfalls punctuated by the sharp, unmistakable sound of glass splintering. Hundreds of thousands of colorful shards littered the polished flagstone from the doorway to the alcove, so there was not a clear inch of granite to be seen. Instead, the entire floor glowed as each fragment caught the few rays left in the fading sky. And though only a paltry bit of that refracted sunset was cast up into the dark recesses of the vaulted ceiling, it was still enough to paint the alabaster arches in a riot of colors. Jewel-toned hues glittered and swam around me, both at my feet and far above my head. It was so beautiful a scene that I could almost believe that heaven surrounded me instead of the hell I had wrought.

For I stood in the midst of a beautiful deception. Once the light fully faded from the sky there would be nothing to distract the eye from the detritus that adorned the space. Broken glass was nothing compared to dozens of small boulders that were also strewn about the room. Each one had pulverized anything that entered its path. Several rocks had upended sections of the inlaid floor — a hard landing after already striking a brutal blow to one of the central pillars. Another exceptionally large stone hung in the courtier's gallery above me, having embedded itself into the marble balcony in a way that nearly defied gravity. But that was war. It subverted the natural order of the world in every way imaginable. And I couldn't help but feel that I was the greatest contradiction of it all, adorned in gleaming armor like a savior when I was the only villain to be found here in this room. After all, stones could not hurl themselves. I had issued the order that sent the stones catapulting through the resplendent glasswork windows.

As I trod past the empty space between the remnants of what had once been expansive window frames, I felt a profound sense of loss sweep over me. But after what I had done today, it seemed fair that nostalgia should haunt me now. For three hundred years, these eight windows had flanked the throne, illustrating the sacrifices of my people and the formation of our kingdom. The elaborate works stood taller than three men, each portraying a specific tale of an ancient ruler who exemplified qualities that good leaders should possess. They were both a testament to the kingdom's famed artisans, wealth, and power, as well as a reminder to the reigning monarch of the legacy they served to protect.

I had spent much of my childhood staring up at the abundance of stained glass alongside my tutors, reciting each story with them and analyzing the morals it imparted. One particularly inspired governess had even assigned me to reproduce the works in my journal, though it quickly became a tedious endeavor. Yet, as much as I resented the mandated assignments, I loved each and every pane. I knew each swirl and flourish so well that I could still crudely sketch each window from memory. But now there was not a trace that they had ever existed.

It was only the presence of a few unfamiliar touches to the room that kept me from falling to my knees and weeping. Things that reminded me why my actions had been necessary. A new crest had been hung in the niche above the throne, a splendid golden oak tree upon a scarlet field instead of the silver wolf's head. Gold pervaded the space as it had not before, in tapestries and paintings — and in the two gilt mirrors that stood on either side of the throne. The dual pieces were quite tall and looked as though they might belong in a dressing room rather than a hall. There was also the curious placement of the mirrors, hidden to the rest of the room by the columns they were mounted onto. It was only at the base of the stairs leading up to the throne that they were obvious. From their intimate position was clear that they were only meant to be viewed by one person and I could picture the scene quite clearly, a full room of courtiers singing their praises under the mantle of the flourishing oak while she basked in her own glory.

Disgust drew me away from the mirrors and back towards the ruined wall of windows. Careful to avoid tripping over the rubble, I passed one frame then another, pausing in front of an oxblood hanging. With a sharp tug, I unceremoniously ripped the fabric away, revealing a hidden balistraria. From the narrow cruciform opening, I peered down at the keep and to the three sets of walls that protected it. In its inception, the walled city was not a palace but a fortress that sprawled across the wide hilltop. The walls had protected its denizens for decades without fear of pillaged. So it was incongruous to look at the men who swarmed on the castle grounds below, as small as insects, had been able to breach these walls and conquer this stronghold. Not that these soldiers were the average conscripts. I was little more than an ant compared to the hulking warriors, each and every one of them generously donated to our shared cause by my little covey of nobles.

As their courageous voices rang out together in some song of victory and glory, some of my guilt and anguish lifted along with my spirits. It gave me newfound clarity, sharpening judgment that had been obscured by grief. Today, my greatest wish had finally fulfilled after all this time. Both the sound and the thought filled me with a sense of bravado that I did not completely deserve but drunk in all the same. For as of today, the castle — and kingdom — was once again mine by right of blood and battle. My destructive actions simply righted the wrongs done to me. Or, more accurately, it would be righted shortly. Just as soon as my final opponent was eliminated.

The sound of footsteps echoing in the hall outside quickly drew me from my reverie, though I remained beside the slotted opening with my back to the room, gazing down upon my inheritance. Many of the marching feet stopped at the doorway while one carried on into the room. Though the gait was familiar to me, the pace certainly was not. Lord Ernst vun Ligner may have been elderly, but he usually moved at the relentless pace of a man half his age. It was only when he deliberately slowed down that his limp was pronounced, his bad leg dragging slightly with each step.

I briefly sighed with disappointment, already knowing his report would be the same as the last. Which was not to say that I was surprised. But I dampened my mounting frustration back into placidity as I continued to watch men outside pile kindling for their bonfire. It certainly would not do to take out my anger and anxiety onto the Lord. He was faultless for all that had occurred over the course of these long years, always by my side. I owed him everything, especially my patience.

"Isoleí, My Lady," he finally called out as he drew up to my side. I turned to him, only to see the top of his graying head as he dropped into a bow.

With a graceful wave of my hand, I bid him rise. "Lord Ligner, what news?"

Quickly, the man straightened, revealing a lined face that was marred further by a deep frown. "I am afraid there is no news yet, My Lady. That gesouch is gone, nowhere to be found. Are you truly sure you saw her and not her double?"

"I could not be more certain," I said faintly, recalling the glimpses of her I had caught during our siege. "I saw her before our first assault, pacing along the eastern battlements, calling out orders. You must have heard her, the way her commands pierced the air?"

The lord made a small, non-committal gesture that I knew to be a nod, so I continued. "I did lose track for her, just for a short time, in the thick of the battle. When we had taken the inner wall I sought her again and thought ... perhaps ..."

"She would have done the second-most honorable thing and thrown herself from a crenel?"

His cutting retort had me faltering, just for a moment, before I remembered the crux of my story. "... Or, as I presumed, she fell in battle. But then I saw her again, silently presiding over her doomed defense."

Pausing once more, I peered out towards the gate and wondered if I should mention the eerie way her gaze had turned my way, though there was no way she should have been able to see me in the midst of the fray. It remained fixed upon me for several long minutes then, without preamble, she had swept her long, dark cape up behind her and retreated out of sight and into the safety of her stone walls. In hindsight, it was a surprisingly anticlimactic ending to such a bizarre event. I couldn't share it with such a pragmatic man, he would think me overly fanciful. So instead, I brought my story to a close. "Our second attack was the last I saw of her."

Mulling over my words and perhaps his own memories of the battle, Lord Ligner stood silently next to me. His frown had not abated at all — if anything it had grown deeper. In a stronger, authoritative voice I tried to ease his mind, "I recognized her, from her mannerisms to her voice. I know it was her, just as I know she still lingers here."

He let out a long breath, one full of weariness that I assumed was from dealing with the day, not me. "As I suspected. But I must warn you, our soldiers grow restless with this disappearing trick she is playing on us. She gives her own men the right to surrender but doesn't lead their march?" The Lord ducked his head so he could also peer out of the balistraria. "This breach of battle conduct incenses some of our warriors as much as it frightens the others. Your wisdom to release them outside the castle walls was sound — but the ultimate solution to this problem. She must be found. Her escape is —"

I was not unlike the snarling wolf on my banner as my temper finally got the best of me. "Do you really think I would let her escape, now, after everything she has done to me?!"

He shook his head solemnly, allowing me my righteous anger. The penitent action assuaged my rage and reminded me he was my friend, not an enemy. I breathed heavily for a moment while I measured my words with greater care. "I have been searching alongside them until Baron Räich implored me to take some rest. What more would you have me do, Ernst? Already I have sought out the small dark corners of the castle and divested them of the few remaining servants that hid within them. Each butler and maid we captured swears that she remains within the walls. And I believe them."

"And should you?"

"You know me better than that, to think I would just go along with everything I was told. I know she is here, just as I know what people think." I paused, making sure I remained calm. "I see the sidelong looks my soldiers give to one another as they frantically pull apart rooms, looking for hidden passages and hidey-holes that don't seem to exist. And I also see they way glance at members of their company, wondering if we already released the fox alongside the sheep. Half seem to be beginning to suspect the others of being a traitor; still loyal to the old crown and harboring her somewhere."

"If not worse." At my questioning stare, he elaborated, "There are always those dimwits who accept her purported magic as truth."

"Perhaps. But we are not fools to accept such nonsense as fact."

"No," he agreed. "But it might be foolish to overlook other rumors."

"Which?"

"Ones you should know well. Stories of murder. Poisoning the way to her own crown. It was her uncle, as you know, the king. Her very own flesh and blood ... " He trailed off, leaving me to ruminate on other whispers I had heard.

I looked away from him, back to the fire blazing outside. "And do you believe they hold any more merit than the others?"

"Perhaps not. But Isoleí, you know better than any other of how dangerous she really is. When we finally capture her I do not think it would be in your best interest to speak with her. You know how insidious she can be."

Absently, I nodded at his words, caught up in memories of daggers, and trees, and hands outstretched to catch at me. Some of it must have played out on my face, for Ligner's own countenance softened. I recognized him better with the change, for it softened him back into the adoptive father that I knew, not this war hawk he was comporting himself as around the soldiers. "Forgive me Isoleí. I did not mean to upset you. I do realize how hard it must be for you to return here."

Clearing his throat, he took on a more formal tone as he raised his voice, the foot soldiers who remained by the doorway shuffling to attention. "I agree with Baron Räich, My Lady. I too bid you rest. Let me lead in your stead."

Again I nodded, deferring to his wisdom. "Thank you, Lord Ligner. Without you ..."

"Think nothing of it," he said, cutting off my platitude quickly and loudly.

"Please, I beg you to hear me," I said, speaking over him. "I need to thank you for everything you have done for me, without any reservation or strife. You gave me a home when I had none and gave me your family when I had no one. You are my counsel always, steering me in the right direction when I need help — even when I do not even know that I have begun to walk down the wrong path."

Gesturing at the men gathered below, I went on, "These soldiers are a good example. Had I pushed to raise our troops myself from across the kingdom, like I had wanted to, it would have taken years to have had this opportunity. I wanted to do it, but only because it felt as if it were the right way to do it, the way my father might have. Battle inexperience was to blame for the misconception but you did not scorn me for it as some of our cohorts did. You were kind in explaining that the process of recruiting would take too long. Your suggestion to hiring the mercenaries ... no, these warriors, was especially wise. I know our victory today sits solidly upon their broad shoulders and your prowess.

"I hope you already know what high esteem I hold you in, Ernst. If not, I hope you clearly realize this now."

"Always, My Lady," he whispered, dropping into a bow as I myself sunk into a curtsy. "I will always be acting in your best interests. You make me, and the other lords, very proud."

I smiled at him warmly as we rose together. It was the first in a very long time that I had issued the expression and meant it. He dipped into one final bow before making to take his leave. Over his shoulder he ordered, "Rest, Isoleí. I mean it. I will return with another update shortly."

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This part was a little too long to put into one chapter, so stay tuned because both Lord Ligner and I will be back shortly with an update!