“The Legend of Melizzande – Silent Queen.”

Lyla ran a finger over the engraved title of the old volume in her hands. Unlike the larger book she’d been poring through late last night, this one was clean. Someone had obviously taken care of this small book. She wondered if it was Sir Michael, and if so, why he had given it to her. She already knew the story of Melizzande. She had just read it, actually, in the larger tome she’d requested from him. She shrugged, and opened the cover.

“As witnessed by Ffraed Lewyn, loyal servant of the Queen.”

This was interesting. Lyla hadn’t read anything about the Silent Queen’s servant. On the next page, the writing began. The handwriting was neat, as befit a scribe, but rather than being written as a story, Ffraed Lewyn wrote as if the book were a journal. Lyla began to read.

She had barely gotten through the beginning introduction when a clamor sounded from the hallway.

________________________________________________________________________

Deep in the forest, Brigit jogged to a halt, bending over and breathing deeply. Castlebury wasn’t far, but she needed to rest. After a few minutes, she straightened and checked her daggers. They were in position. She glanced up to the sky.

“Here we go again,” she muttered, and ran once more.

Half an hour later, Brigit spied the tall dome of Castlebury. Haste spurred her on until she stood before the castle gate.

“Ho!” she called to the guards inside. “Open up!”

“Who goes there?”

“Brigit of Icboth! I have a message for the Queen!”

The men, peering out and seeing nothing but a thin, sweaty girl, unbolted the gate and allowed her in.

“What do you need?” they asked her, curious.

“I have a message for the queen!” Brigit exclaimed. “Show me to her!”

The tallest man laughed. “No one just goes in to the queen, girl. You’ve got to get an appointment.”

Brigit scoffed. “What, for this tiny woods-castle? How busy can she be?”

The man’s gaze darkened. “You’ll speak respectfully, girl, and you’ll be telling me what you’re about.”

“Oh, fine then, whatever you want.” Brigit twisted hard, jerking her arm away from the man. “There’s a large band of brigands marching through southern Tulern, butchering whoever gets in their way, and they’re headed right for my town of Icboth. The young men of the town are gearing up for a fight, but stand no chance. I am sent to ask for reinforcements.”

Lord Bargery, for that was he, rolled his head back and laughed. Brigit stared, insulted. Finally, he amid chuckles, he explained.

“You’ll be getting no help from us, Brigit of Icboth. Don’t you know that we are not allowed to leave with permission from Queen Rachelle?”

“Well, let me ask her.” Brigit stuck her chin out. “Get me an appointment or something. I said I would ask the queen, and by the gods, I shall.” She glared at the man, silently daring him to refuse her.

Rector Bargery studied her. “It might do some good at that,” he allowed. “Wait here. I’ll find out when you can see her.”

“Hurry,” Brigit urged. “It might be too late.”