Loud and persistent, the knock on the door rips me out of my sleep. As I sit up on my bed, Hadrian stirs on the floor. It is still night, and his pale face seems to float in the dark like a ghost's.

I limp to the door, my body still not fully awake. "Yes?"

"Oliver summons you," says an unfamiliar voice. "He's in the library."

"Ah," I say, and then just stand there, listening to the retreating footsteps.

Summons?

I move around the room, picking up my clothes, pulling on my pants, all the while aware of Hadrian's watching me. Buttoning my shirt, I glance in his direction. He has pulled himself up to a sitting position and is leaning with his back on the fireplace screen. It's unlikely that he could try to escape again in my absence—the screen is cast iron, and I have tied his hands to it well—yet I'm uneasy about leaving him alone.

"Don't you try anything," I say. "I will get very angry if you do."

He snorts. "It doesn't really matter. My time is up. He wants me dead."

"Who? Oliver?" I pull on my boots. "You can't know why he called for me. Not everything has to be about you."

"I have a hunch this time it's about me."

I pause, frowning. It could be. If Oliver was told about Hadrian's attempt to escape, he would surely want to talk about it—but why in the middle of the night?

I exit the room and lock the door.

The corridors are dark and desolate. Occasional light from the torches illuminates the garbage piling on the floor. I stumble on a broken candelabra and kick it aside, causing a few cockroaches to scatter away. By one of the niches, a smell of excrements hits my nostrils, and I suppress a gagging reflex. Something has to be done about all of this. Rebellion or not, turning the castle into a junkyard isn't going to contribute to building a better society.

I reach the library and stop, surprised by the presence of two armed guards.

"Weapons?" says one of them.

"A sword."

"Leave it here."

Frowning, I unclasp the sheath with the sword and hand it to him. The other one walks around me, looking me over. I feel a sting of annoyance. They know who I am. Why is this necessary?

The man steps back, satisfied with his examination.

"Don't take offence, brother," he says. "We must take precautions. We wouldn't want our leader to be hurt, would we? Come in, he's waiting for you."

He opens the heavy door, and I step into the room.

The library is as much a mess as the rest of the castle. Ceiling high bookshelves are half empty, and piles of books and manuscripts litter the floor. In the middle of this chaos, Oliver sits with his feet up on the heavy oak table. The light of the five candles burning in the candelabra plays on his face and on the book he holds open in his lap. As the door shuts behind me, he looks up.

"There you are." He gets up, tosses the book away, and comes over to me. "Wondering why I called you?"

"Summoned," I say. "That's the word they used."

He hums thoughtfully. "Oh yeah, 'summoned' sounds better. More fit for the new king that I am."

I guess my eyes get round at that, because his serious expression dissolves into a mischievous grin.

"Oh Bruno, your lack of humor is hilarious in itself! I'm only fooling with you, don't you get it?" He slaps me on the shoulder and ushers me towards the table. "There, take a chair. Wine? I have a bottle here. It's amazing."

I settle into a chair as he retrieves a goblet and a bottle from behind a stack of books. He fills the goblet with blood red liquid and hands it to me. Despite the late hour, he's fully dressed, wearing not only a shirt and breeches but also an embroidered waistcoat with a massive golden chain upon it, not to mention a few diamond rings on his fingers.

The new king that I am.

"Looking fancy," I say.

He waves me away and plops onto the other chair, returning his feet to the table.

"Nothing special," he says. "I hope my boys didn't bother you too much?"

"The guards? They took my sword."

He frowns. "They're getting too eager to protect me. But, you know, people love me for what I did for the rebellion." He grins. "Anyway, that's not why I called for you. I have a piece of news that I wanted to share with you first. Want to make a guess?"

"No. Just tell me." I can't share his playful mood. In fact, the feeling of uneasiness that has been accumulating in me since the rebellion seems to only intensify. There's something disturbing about this sacked castle, about the killings and the rapes and the plunder that has been going on, and about Oliver behaving as if it was all just a big joke. For the first time I allow myself to dwell on the question that I've been avoiding: does he really know what he's doing, or is it all just a game to him?

"I'm getting married," Oliver says.

"What?" My goblet hits the table, the wine splashing out.

Oliver laughs and leans forward, removing his feet from the table and placing his elbows on it instead. "Yes, my friend. There comes a time in a life of every man to take a wife and build a home --"

"Cut the crap," I say. "What are you talking about?"

"Aurelia," he says, and I blink as the name sinks in. "She's... amazing, don't you think?" He smiles again, dreamily. "Beautiful, wise, graceful. A woman can't rule a kingdom, but a clever one could make a worthy advisor to a right man."

"To the new king?"

"We won't call it a 'king'." He looks up as if searching for the right word. "A leader. A representative of the people. The name doesn't matter. But yes, there's got to be a strong hand—you saw how aimless and destructive people become when simply given freedom. Someone has to direct them. To rule them."

I stare at him. It's still Oliver, my best friend, and yet there's something about him that makes me wonder if I really know him. Has he always been this ambitious?

The dragon can never be defeated. He can only be replaced by a new one.

I shake my head, banishing the unwelcome thought. He's no dragon. He's Oliver.

"Did Aurelia agree?"

"Oh yes." He leans over the table and lowers his voice conspiratorially. "Tonight, she came into my chambers and...well...you know." He winks at me. "She was a virgin, you know? It meant a lot for her, to offer herself like that to someone lowborn, outside of marriage, just because of our feelings." He looks away. "And then, as I laid in bed with her sleeping in my arms, I realized how beneficial our union could be. Not only as two lovers, but two political forces. Whatever opposition is gathering against us, they will have to reconsider if the only living child of the king is joined in marriage with the new leader. It will give my rule legitimacy in the eyes of the noble houses as well as the simple people."

"Your rule," I say.

He rolls his eyes, "Don't be nitpicky. I'm not going to be a king, at least not in the old sense of the word—but I am going to be a ruler. With Aurelia's help, I'll bring this kingdom to its golden age." He leans back in his chair and looks at me. "But before that, there's one little problem that needs to be taken care of."

My mouth feels dry. "Hadrian."

"Yes." He crosses his arms on his chest. "I don't know why it's taking you so long to get rid of him, but we've really got to wrap it up. Tomorrow, by the time I announce I'm about to marry the last descendant of the King, she has to be exactly that—the last one." He pauses, examining me. "So, either you go to your room and kill him now, or I will do it myself in the morning."

I stare at him, but what I'm really seeing is the pale face and the green eyes awaiting me in my room. Hadrian. The touch of his hands making my body react in all kinds of surprising ways. Him cowering by the wall to escape my fists. His arrogant manner that made me want to hit him. Syra's unconscious body in Philto's room. He's so confusing. There has always been something inscrutable about him that I guess I wanted to understand. Killing him would leave the riddle unsolved. But perhaps there's nothing to understand. Perhaps he's just the shallow spoiled brat he seems to be.

"Will you do that?" Oliver says.

Slowly, I nod.

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