Raven felt so exhausted.

Her body still had strength, enough to fight a troop or two, and yet her mind was so tired she felt she would collapse.

What was that? She thought. Was I going to hurt the Princess?

Worst part of it all was that Raven could only seek solace in one thing: The Princess hadn't seemed to be angry, or even upset for that matter.

She had tried to speak to Raven, but the latter had simply been so tired, a steady known ache developing in her head, and another unknown one in her heart.

Raven did not know what to do to get rid of the clammy uneasy feeling in her gut. She only knew that she hated it, and would do anything in her power to make it go away.

She wondered then, as her body threw itself upon her bed carelessly, if Princess Anya was feeling her share of this emotion.

.

.

.

It was not till the next day that Anya saw Raven's face again, when the latter entered the former's room to take her to yet another accordance.

Yet Anya did not rise from her bed.

Joanne had given up fussing over the Princess, and by the time Raven had arrived, the older woman had left.

"Are you ill?" Raven asked her cautiously, as if she had not the slightest idea on how to proceed with someone who was not well.

Anya shook her head, and yet sank deeper into the bed covers, not wishing to be seen by the other girl like this, disheveled and lazy.

Raven stood in her place for a moment awkwardly, and then stepped closer to Anya's bedside, almost hesitant. She raised her hand and paused, before resting it atop the Princess's forehead.

Anya froze, her fingers clutching the sheets beneath her.

"Well, you do not seem to have a fever." Raven took her hand off, leaving Anya wishing for more. "Or is it that..."

Raven's expression fell, and she bowed her head.

For a while they remained like that; Anya half hidden in her bed and Raven standing by her side, her head hung low, not letting Anya see her expression.

"Is it because of what happened yesterday, You Royal Highness?" Raven said.

"No!" Anya almost sat up in her sheets. "That's... not it."

Raven looked up, seemingly relieved.

"It's just..." Anya gave up, and pulled herself into a sitting position. "I need to stay in my quarters for today. This is the only way I can get my father to stay away from his office long enough for you to enter it."

Raven's eyes widened.

"Are you... sure about this, Princess?" She asked, her voice softening down. "I would not want for you to do this if you do not wish to."

Anya nodded, yearning to place a comforting hand on the other, but holding herself back. "It is the only way we can move forward. What you had said was right; we need Gabriel Santiago's records, albeit I cannot steal from my father."

Raven bit her lip. "Princess Anya, I..."

Anya tilted her head, waiting for the other to continue, but she remained silent.

"What is it?" She prodded.

"I apologize. For yesterday and also for that day in the infirmary. I feel as if I have been constantly putting you in situation where you do not find comfort."

Anya was left stunned for a second.

Then, she pushed the bed sheets away from herself, and stood up slowly.

"I apologize, too." She said. "I keep arguing and putting us in difficult places."

"You have never done that!" Raven looked up, indignant on the Princess's behalf. She opened her mouth to continue, but Anya cut her off.

"Perhaps not from you perspective." Anya said, and then waved her hand. "Let us forget about it now."

Raven nodded, "We should focus on our next step."

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.

.

Princess Anya's plan had worked so far. The King was in her chambers, safely away from his office, leaving it bare and waiting for Raven.

As she hurried through the corridors, she came to a stop just outside the hall which led to the King's office. The guard stationed outside was supposed to be asleep, as the Princess had told Raven that this particular time in the afternoon was the least active, and hence most boring.

To Raven's disappointment, however, he was wide awake, standing alert with a spear in his hands.

She was not giving up so easy. She retraced her steps till she came to an unlocked room and, pushing the door open, stepped in.

The room seemed to be the sort that accommodated guests, and it held some spare pieces of furniture, all draped in a white cloth. At the other end of the room was what Raven had been looking for, a balcony.

She crossed the room in just a few quick strides, and pushed open the fancy glass door that stood in her way.

Fresh air greeted her as she stepped closer to the balustrade. Looking down, she could see the grounds of the castle stretching endlessly over the horizon. The room was on the third storey, and a fall from here would guarantee Raven broken limbs, if not death itself.

Raven placed her hand onto the railing, and turned to her left. The balconies that stretched individually in front of her, at a distance of about two meters, seemed endless. One of them led to the King's office.

Raven took off her sword sheath from her waist, placing it on the floor of the balcony and climbed onto the balustrade. She felt anxious moving without it, even is she knew she wouldn't need it.

She wedged her feet between the gaps of the railing, and, holding onto it with on hand, reached over to grasp the marbled tiles of the next balcony.

Raven was 186 centimeters tall, and her long arms reached the tiles with ease, even grasping onto the balustrade firmly enough to hoist her weight onto her hands. Her legs left the floor, and made a wide arc as she swung them over the railing of the balcony she was climbing onto. For a minute her weight was shifted to her stomach, which rested atop the balustrade, and then she landed back on her feet, brushing her hair out of her face.

She peeped into the room she had infiltrated, and, finding it empty, moved to the next balcony in similar manner.

She leapt from one balcony to the next till she could tell that the one she had landed on would lead her to the King's office. She turned to look at her sword, which laid next to a balustrade a few meters away, looking forlorn, one last time, before turning and stepping into the office.

A huge oak desk stood next to a wall, behind which a throne-like chair was half-hidden. The table was piled with paperwork, and walls were hidden with maps, a few which Raven recognized. There was a settee in the room, right next to which was a chest of drawers. Decorations were bare, and almost everything Raven could lay her eyes on was related to Navaya one way or the other.

Right opposite to the balcony was the door that would have been a convenient entrance, had there not been a guard outside. Raven crossed the room, and noiselessly slid the bolt in.

Then she turned around, and began searching.

Hopefully, I shall find the records here. Raven thought.

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.

.

Anya was having perhaps the best day ever since her mother passed. And even if guilt ate away at her insides, she could not help but grin from ear to ear.

Her father had marched into her room, concerned and worried, having received news of Anya's sudden illness from Joanne. He had asked her if she needed the Health Specialist, which Anya had hurriedly declined.

The King had then placed himself on an armchair at Anya's bedside, and asked her to talk to him.

And so Anya did.

She told him about her tiring routine and the feeling of emptiness that would steadily arise from the bottom of her gut. She spoke to him of her wish to see him more frequently and to spend time with him.

And he listened.

He sat back into his chair, watching her with those caring eyes of his, relaxed and unhurried as if he had all the time in the world, as if there was no kingdom under his rein. She poured her heart out to him, and everything else she had felt in the past eleven years of her mother's absence, and the best part of it all was that he listened.

He did not interrupt, he did not stop her. He just listened.

It was as if in that moment they were no longer King and Princess of Navaya, only a father and a daughter who had a lot of catching up to do.

A father whose daughter was conspiring behind his back, albeit not against him.