Lord Darren lowered his head, listening to the men's conversations and disregarding the clank of cutlery, the scrape of chairs, the scuff of boots, loud bursts of laughter, and the rhythmic tap of someone's fingers on a table.

Even deep in thought, he listened with another part of his mind, always learning more of the inner workings of his little world from these snippets of conversation than his men would guess—most were human and often forgot about his sensitive vampire hearing.

Arlene arrived at the other end of the table. With a nod in his direction, she seated herself and filled her plate.

He observed her with more interest.

Devon is just another part of the puzzling events unfolding in the kingdoms. The pieces do not fit yet, but time has taught me patience, and all these random events will make sense eventually.

"I hope understanding does not come too late," his vampire commented.

A messenger entered the room, and Lord Darren nodded, granting him an audience. The man hurried to his side and spoke in hushed tones near his ear for a long time.

When the messenger left, Lord Darren's thoughts strayed on faraway paths and no longer centered on the people in the room or even his lands.

This news provides new information but also raises more questions. It is another piece of the random puzzle that thickens the plot. If someone engineered all these strange happenings, then it is a devious mind with a master plan I cannot fathom.

"Why would a royal werewolf stir insurrection against her father?" his vampire wondered. "What purpose did it serve? Especially with her place assured as queen when he steps down or dies?"

"And why does rumor not paint her as the plotting and scheming type if that is what she did?" Lord Darren straightened the knife beside his empty plate. "What happened that turned an entire nation against Devon with such effectiveness? Yes, kinslaying is a horrible thing, but I do not peg her as a murderer."

Something inside him would not believe her capable of something so heinous. Even though he did not personally know her, it felt like he did.

"If she schemed against her father, why not marry this pompous Prince Marcus, wait a year, and have him suffer an accident?" the vampire asked.

"None of this makes sense," Lord Darren agreed.

"Why do something so atrocious in the open, without consideration, and by her own hand?" the vampire speculated.

"All the evidence against her is too neat, and there is too much of it. What I learned of her doesn't fit with this naïve, sloppy plot that leads straight to her."

Lord Darren's attention returned to the present, and he observed the slowly emptying room with an unreadable expression.

"My old mentor, a human from Salistan, would have called this a well-wrapped gift. It was his way of saying that something appeared so perfect that it did not seem right, and such things are often not," he muttered, lost in thought.

The tale drifted into his mind, and he could almost hear his old friend's voice. He must have been around seven at the time, but the story stuck with him.

A log fell through the grate, the fire crackled in the hearth, and the familiar scent of burning pine triggered the memory. The hall faded away, and Lord Darren was back in his old room in the nursery.

"A prince asked his mother what she wanted for her birthday. This queen always favored Prince Juan's brother, and no matter what Juan did, she would find fault with it."

The elderly butler began his tale with that familiar gleam of relish in his gaze. Darren was already in bed, listening to that smooth, formal voice with anticipation.

Harold told the best stories, he remembered fondly.

"The queen, getting in yet another well-aimed gibe at her 'inferior son,' told him she wanted nothing he could give since nothing Juan ever gave her measured up to his brother's offerings."

The butler's disapproval of this situation was no mystery. His demeanor grew stern, his iron-gray brows were almost touching, and deep furrows drew the corners of his lips down as he stared at the faded pages of the old book.

"On her birthday, she received the most beautiful package in Prince Lu-Hain's signature blue and red colors. She left this gift for last to build the anticipation of the guests at her yearly birthday ball."

Curious, Darren wanted to hurry the elder along, but experience taught him that would be unwise. More than once, his ardor had Harold close the book of tales to continue on another night.

The butler was a man of patience and wisdom. Moreover, the elderly human spent more time with him than his father ever did. It was Harold who taught him how to be a man while Duncan only educated him on how to be a soldier and a diplomat during the brief moments the king had to spare over the years.

"Lu-Hain was famous for his extravagant gifts, and at midnight, the queen removed the silk covering with such excitement."

Harold drew out the moment by taking a sip of water and replacing the goblet with great care.

Duncan never told him stories, and if he came to visit, he rarely stayed overnight. He had a kingdom to run and an heir to prepare for the throne.

The only person who told better tales than Harold was Mother.

"The queen froze when she recognized the contents of her gift, and then she screamed. It did not come from Lu-Hain but from Juan. He presented his mother with his brother's head in a glass display case."

It was not what little Darren expected, but vampire bedtime stories were often gruesome.

"Don't you like your present, Mother? You always said Lu-Hain was 'the best gift' you ever received. Now, he will always be yours."

Harold was very good with voices, and Darren could picture the scene as if he were there.

"The queen dropped the glass case, and it shattered. She then grabbed the cake knife from the table and attacked her son. Juan managed to take the blade from her and stabbed her," Harold said with such amusing drama, mimicking the motion.

" 'Thank you, Mother. What a thoughtful gift. It is everything I have always wanted—a kingdom and to be an only child. These are my first birthday presents ever,' Juan said, turning the knife in her heart." The butler twisted the imaginary blade, and little Darren gasped.

Lost in thought, Lord Darren never noticed when his men departed or when the servants cleaned the table, leaving only his empty plate and untouched wine goblet.

Harold's gravestone had been so weathered that he had to replace it a few years earlier, but the memory of the man still lived inside him. The butler's influence had molded him as much as that of his mother.

Arlene watched her master's eyes turn that particular shade of silver she had seen so many times before.

What has unsettled him? His odd mood since our return from the monoliths makes me uneasy. At first, I chalked it off as worry about the witch and then attributed it to his fascination with Devon. But it is something bigger, which I have yet to grasp.

With a sigh, she also gave up on him and left him alone in the darkening hall. My patient requires my presence, and my master does not.

Lord Darren remained motionless for hours, and only his eyes glimmered in the reflections of the fire as his mind strained to find the sense in what he had learned these past months.

Some integral part of the puzzle remains hidden from my sight. He stirred from his chair and brought the hearth's dying embers back to life with the ornate fire poker.

The flickering flames gained an odd purple hue, and he detected the faintest odor of rotting fruit. For a brief moment, the shadows grew darker and denser.

He shrugged off the chill running down his spine as fancy.

The dogs woke from their slumber, still sleep-drunk. The four long-legged, long-haired creatures unexpectedly emitted the oddest keening howl—a sound that reminded him of an open grave at midnight—before settling closer to him.

Lord Darren frowned at them, more uneasy than he wanted to admit. The hairs on his nape stood upright, and goosebumps covered his arms.

Even the animals have acted strangely of late. Twice during these last few nights, the horses have become restless in their stalls. Ragnor even broke the door to his stable.

He would not settle until Lord Darren visited him, and the stallion refused to return to the building.

"Perhaps it is Devon's presence in the castle," the vampire suggested. "But the animal never reacts that way to Thomas."

"Two other steeds exhibited the same behavior. They are docile under normal circumstances, but something spooked them," Lord Darrem murmured.

All the horses nickered, snorted, and pawed the ground with their eyes rolling and skins shivering, but these two also kicked against the doors.

Afraid they would break free or hurt themselves, he left them in the paddock with Ragnor.

"That kind of restlessness in a horse usually points to the presence of a predator or some other danger," the vampire agreed. "Even the pigs broke free two nights ago, and two are still missing."

Despite using all his senses to check the stables, yard, and hayloft, Lord Darren had detected nothing unusual except an odd chill in the air and the same scent of rotting fruit.

"If it was magic, would Arlene not notice it?" He stared at the fire, almost entranced by the purplish hue of the flames, as his thoughts returned to his surroundings.

A sudden draft blew back down the chimney, raising sparks in the fire, and he thought he heard the faintest sound of a woman's laughter.

"Is it my imagination playing tricks on me?" he wondered.

"If it is, why does it again feel like the shadows watch us with mocking, predatory eyes?" The vampire seemed strangely unsettled.

"My lord, it is getting late," Arlene reminded from the door, startling him.

"Why is it so chill in here, and what is that smell?" she asked, adding more logs to the roaring fire.

Just like that, the oppression lifted, and the heat returned.

It wasn't my imagination, Lord Darren realized.

Arlene frowned and shivered.

"Were you alone?" she asked with an odd expression.

"I think not," he answered.

The elf glanced at him in the half-light of the flames.

"When I came in here, I sensed the same eerie presence lurking in the shadows that I had sensed in the darkness at the monument," Arlene said. Her irises turned a light shade of violet as her senses tested the darkness in the massive old room. "It is gone now."

"She had detected it too." The vampire seemed almost relieved. "But the magical wards on the castle should prevent such intrusions. Should it not?"

"It should but clearly does not. I believe that none of the events from these last few months have been random, and whoever orchestrated them possesses potent magic." Lord Darren leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers under his chin.