The sun had just begun to set, draping long shadows along the southern courtyard. Mirna had just finished watering her garden and the smell of damp earth mixed with faint sting of salt carried by the gentle southern wind.
Evan sat hunched beneath the low wall, his back against cold stone, carving a seagull out of a piece of soft wood.
Shavings drifted onto his boots like ashes as he worked, his focus making him oblivious to the sound of footsteps echoing on the other side of the wall.
“What black box?”
The voice startled him. It was spoken in a hush, but not so low to be a whisper.
Another voice answered, equally soft.
“I don’t know. I saw him leave the palace empty-handed, but wearing gloves. Of course, I thought nothing of it. But then, not a few moments later, he came back, carrying a little black box in one hand. And he slipped it into his pocket as if hiding something. And three days later… the girl gets ill – from plague, that’s supposed to be contained. And nobody else got sick. What are the odds of that? A little too strange to be a coincidence, if you ask me.”
“And you’re sure it was one of her servants? The matriarch’s?”
“It wasn’t one of ours, that’s for certain.”
Evan’s hand froze on the gull’s beak.
The knife stopped mid-stroke, trembled.
For a moment, Evan couldn’t breathe. The words didn’t make sense at first, and then they slowly fell into an order that turned his stomach to ice.
His heart beat once, twice. He swallowed.
Put the knife and the unfinished gull into his pocket and slowly rose.
He had to tell Eirran.
Stone flew beneath the soles of his feet as he ran, air turned to wind at his ears.
Servants turned heads as he stormed past them, scoffing. His foot tripped on a step but he grasped at the railing, steadied himself and continued his run.
He turned around the corner to the prince’s study, and almost bumped into Keth.
“Mister Keth!” Evan gasped. “I have to – “
“Easy. Breathe,” said Keth, and his voice cut the panic neatly in half.
“I heard…” Evan gulped air. “Servants…talking about seeing a servant…Of hers.” Boys voice turned into a whisper as he looked in the direction of Fariah’s chambers, “That he acted strange… Smuggling in some black box, just before Lily got sick.”
Keth straightened, his head turning right and left, sharp eyes making sure they were alone as he touched Evan’s shoulder. “Come.” He knocked and opened the door, nudging and following the boy inside.
Eirran stood over a table strewn with maps and letters, inspecting a piece of parchment with a frown of deep focus. He’d spent a lot of time working in the past few days, trying to catch up everything that had piled up on his desk during the vigil. Principality didn’t care about his personal struggles.
He lifted his eyes as the massive door clicked shut, and Evan felt his gaze anchoring his feet to the ground.
Eirran’s brown furrowed in confusion. “Evan?”
“Now tell him what you told me.” Keth said.
Eirran nodded. “Speak.”
Evan rubbed the sweaty palm of his hand against the fabric of his pockets, feeling the seagull inside.
“I heard servants talk again. They do that a lot in the southern courtyard – not many ears there, I guess, and nobody really bats an eye at a human boy minding his own business.”
Eirran’s eyes narrowed. Keth gently nudged the boy. “Get to the point.”
“Yes. Right.” Evan swallowed, forcing his hands still. Then he repeated everything he’d heard, in short, simple words.
“I don’t know if it’s true or not.” he finished with a shrug. “I just knew I had to tell you.”
The silence that settled between them carried the coldness of a grave.
“And you are certain you heard well? That you didn’t… misinterpret something, perhaps?” Eirran’s voice was calm like an earth crust above the emerging volcano.
“Yes, sir. I wouldn’t lie about something like this.”
Eirran closed his eyes.
His mother. His mother. His mother.
The words tolled in his ears like bell of doom.
Between the three of them silence spread like molten wax.
“Thank you,” said Eirran, finally opening his eyes and forcing his mind to sail over the turmoil inside. “You did well.”
Evan nodded, as if that cost him more than the telling. His hands found his pockets; his finger brushed the wooden seagull and the edge of the knife.
“Evan,” Eirran continued, harmonies rising to a genle edge, “You will speak of this to no one, do you understand?”
Evan nodded, wide eyed. Something in Eirran softened at the boy. “It’s for your protection.” A pause. “Lily is still recovering,” he forced a smile. “And I am too buried in work to keep her company. Will you go and read to her? I know you hate it, but she’s still too frail to get up and your company always makes her happy.”
Evan tried not to smile, and failed. “I hate reading,” he confirmed. ” But I’ll go.”
“Go,” said Eirran. “And send Mirna my gratitude for the fish stew she sent here today. I would have forgotten to eat otherwise.”
Evan smiled, nodded and left. Keth remained.
Shadows fell along the walls. Fire in the hearth dimmed its warmth.
“It fits everything we’ve feared.” Keth began carefully. “As you’ve said, plague doesn’t appear out of thin air nor does it strike a single child in a palace full of humans.”
Slowly, Eirran rose, his dark eyes looking somewhere beyond Keth, beyond the walls.
“Still.” the word fell heavy. “I want you to investigate this. Quietly. Start with the guards, then the kitchens, then the servants’ quarters. Bring me everything. Try to find that box if it exists.”
“Yes,” said Keth.
“Not a word to my mother,” Eirran added. “Not until we know more. But tell the guards to pay closer attention to her servants – closer than before. Where they go, whom they sit with, what they carry. Every object. Every piece of parchment.”
“Rahl will lead the search,” said Keth. “I’ll speak to the servants.” He took a deep breath. “I will report to you before sundown.” After a quick bow, he turned to leave, but Eirran’s voice held him in place.
“What kind of monster raises hand against their own blood, Keth? Even more, a child?” The tone was distant, trailing behind his eyes that were now fixed on somewhere beyond the horizon.
Keth straightened his shoulders.
“The one who looks in the mirror and sees a savior.”
Eirran’s gaze hardened into something beyond anger. Grief, perhaps.
He said nothing else, allowing Keth to leave quietly before turning back to the window, watching the clouds darken beneath the storm-grey sky.
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