“Now, Mr. Giles.” Elisa stood in the center of the great hall, hands clasped before her. “We are in desperate need to talk to you about things.” She had demanded that all guards and servants be absent from the room at this time, and it left the place empty of all life except the trio. Giles felt more than a bit amazed seeing the inside of a castle, or rather, the inside of a castle that was not a cell. For all his feelings on the people of the north, they knew how to decorate a great hall. Powerful oaken tables stood wide and proud with their carvings of badgers, deer, and bear running along the edges. Horned chandeliers hung low from the high ceiling, illuminating the space with its orange glow far more than any of the high windows ever could. No place had ever made him feel so small. And, looking at the noble speaking before him confused his brain all the more.

  She stood, not before a throne, or surrounded by many caretakers. Not draped in the veils and jewels he had often depicted in the books his father read to him before bed as a small boy. Rather, she stood only feet from him, young and bright eyed. Her unweathered face and bright features stood in stark contrast to his own. The prisoner suddenly felt aware of his unshaven face and baggy clothes. However, it stood out in his mind that her eyes never once looked to these things. Not once did her face express concern about being so near this strange ‘southern man’. Instead, at all times, her eyes looked into his, desperate, searching for something that he might have within him that he himself did not know.

  “I am not sure how I might be able to help you, ma’am.” Giles shuffled his feet a bit, and adjusted his oversize tunic. Elisa turned her head to Magnus, who sat at one of the near tables, and nodded to him. The old man rose and grabbed a tray with beverages, then proceeded to pour wine into three glasses.

  “You say that, but I need you to at least promise to try your very best. This is rather important to me.” Giles’ head moved back a fraction. She spoke to him almost in the way that children do when worried about a thing. His eyes looked about her face, and he realized how young she truly appeared, in more ways than just age. Perhaps, he thought, as young as he was. Could queens of Tovoran be so? “Do you promise?” Giles nodded, and affirmed her request.

  She looked down, fidgeting with the book’s ribbon between her slender fingers. Her eyes searched for the proper words. Then tightening her lips, she looked up at him.

  “You are from the south, are you not?” Magnus had made his way over, and passed Giles his glass. He took it, and the two men gave each other a respectful nod.

  “I have explained to your man, Magnus, here that I am not exactly a southerner.”

  “Yes, but you were there not long ago? You came here riding on a stolen horse wearing a southern saddle. And Abner himself-”

  “The horse was given to me, ma’am.” Giles cut her off. He did not notice the flinch on Magnus’s face at having a common man interrupting a queen, but he also saw no apparent concern about it on the woman’s face, so he continued on. “The horse was given to me.”

  “You rode in here half naked, and with the animal half dead.”

  “My lady.” Magnus asserted. He apparently felt the nature of the conversation moved too far to a boldness not proper.

  “Well, he did, didn’t he?” She asked, raising her voice and looking with frustration between the two men. Giles took a breath.

  “I suppose you are not wrong about how things appeared. I myself would have assumed the same had we been swapped around. But a gift given in a time of great distress is still a gift.” He took a swallow of wine. A bit of it trickled down his mouth, and he ducked his head and raised his hand to wipe it away with his sleeve. Magnus furrowed his brow at this, and reached for a kerchief to hand the young man. Elisa took no notice.

  “What do you mean?” Giles accepted the little white cloth from his new friend with another nod, and Magnus motioned for him to dab away the bit that had spilled on his tunic, a slight smile playing on his lips.

  “Eh, I mean,” said Giles, cleaning himself up. “That me and the man who gave me the horse were in a life or death situation. He chose my life over his own.” He pulled the cloth away and looked down into the deep red smears. “An act I am still unsure was worth the price.”

  “I see.” Said Elisa. “And I suppose you told Abner of this during your interrogation.” Giles nodded. “He seems to trust you. Or, rather, he seems to have some type of plan for you.” She turned and walked away from him a few paces as she spoke. “That is something I am uninterested in, at this moment. A Magi’s business is his own. I trust him enough for that.”

  “If you trust him, then why did you send him away?” Giles’ words brought Magnus to raise his hand in a halting motion.

  “Mind yourself, sir. You are a guest of this lady.” Giles looked confused.

  “I meant no offense. Just a question.” Elisa looked down at the book in her hand, and ran her fingers over the cover.

  “I am afraid that is between me and the Magi.” She placed the book on a nearby table and turned away from it to face Giles once more. “But we are not talking about that now. Now, I have a very simple question for you.” She clasped her hands before her, striking a far more regal pose. “Is there any reason my people should fear the south?” The room went silent as the words’ echoes died away. Giles blinked at her.

  “What?”

  “Your story, whatever it might have been, gave enough reason for our advisor to want you kept near him for further use. He mentioned your knowledge of the southern region might come in use during the war.” Giles’ mind ran with two lines of thinking simultaneously. It dawned on him that he was playing the part of representation for all of the southern region. While the woman before him might be young, she was still a queen and would thus hold a queen’s importance within the world of Tovoran. Anything he said now could spell the causation for thousands of lives, should this young woman decide to take action upon the northern region. The second line of thought, sprang from the sudden revelation of what Abner might need him for. No matter how much he wracked his brains in the cell, the only possible option was that Abner might be planning to use him as a bartering chip for ending the war, or forming allies. The Magi was one of the few in the whole of Tovoran who knew of Giles’ crimes after all. Why wouldn’t he use such information to save lives. Now, the prisoner learns that he is only wanted for details of the south? Details which he simply did not have? Had he been given more time to ponder this, he might conclude that this was some simple trick to cover up Abner’s true intentions for him. However, Elisa pressed him.” Do we have reason to fear you southerners?” Giles looked between the man and woman before him, perplexed.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “I have no idea. Why would the southerners have any reason to attack you?”

  “Because, in a time of war, allies are the only thing you can hope not to harm you. Enemies are placed in a camp of a clear threat. But,” She looked at her hands for a moment before addressing the prisoner again. “Those who lie in between are simply put into that camp until proven otherwise.” She tried to hold her head high. Giles looked at her, a look of confusion that grew into a smirk.

  “Who told you this?”

  “It is known.”

  “But who told it to you so that you would know it? You and I are far too young to understand such things from experience.”

  “Giles,” Magnus interjected again. “Mind yourself. It is clear that your time in the cell has not taught you to speak respectfully. Giles raised a hand in apology as he took another swallow of wine. Elisa looked down, and her hands began to fidget again.

  “I meant no offense. It is only, these are bold words to make. Much of Tovoran does not fall into any of the factions you seem to be referring to.” He began gesturing to an invisible map as he spoke. “There are the coastal villages, and the many castles of the Warren who would have little interest in this fight. And of course the many people who reside along the Bluehead. Who knows who else.”

  “I suppose the Magi school would be one of those.” Elise spoke, mostly to herself as she began to realize how many places she had not thought of in the world. Giles gave a hesitant nod, unsure that he knew anything about the school, but glad she was seeing his point. He took another gulp to finish off the glass.

  “And are you one of these?” Giles raised his brows as he looked over the glass’s lid. “Where do your people fall? Who are they?” Giles slowly lowered the glass, keeping his eyes trained on hers. Against his will, he felt the same emotions welling up in his chest as when Abner had told him of the massacre. He raised his head, and looked down at the queen. Magnus furrowed his brow at the apparent change in the prisoner’s demeanor.

  “My people were a fishing tribe off of the Bluehead. We lived for the craft. Nothing could bring more joy to any Namroe than to be on the river, rod in hand, sailing over the deep blue waters.” He smiled and brought his hand to his mouth to stifle a laugh. “Do you know, that my first memory is of the day my father took me to the banks for the first time to fish. He gave me a rod, sized just for me. I remember him instructing me on how to read the water. ‘Always understand’ he would say, ‘the fish is watching you just as you are watching the fish, and the first one to read things wrong is the one who gets caught. Then boom!” Giles slapped his free hand against the cup. Elisa jumped, and even Magnus clenched his jaw. “Something took my line and I was pulled right off my feet. I don’t remember much. Just the feeling of water going down my throat. Feeling like you're drowning, it is the worst feeling known to man.” He shook his head. Then, abruptly held up a knowing finger. “But, just when I had accepted my early end to life, I felt a hand grab the back of my collar. Oh, in that moment, it felt like the strongest hand in all of the world. My father pulled me free from the rushing waters, and back to the bank.” He went silent for a moment before continuing. “I don’t remember this part of the story, but he told me once that, when he brought me back up, I was still holding the rod and brought the giant pike that I had caught with me.”

  Giles went silent for a few moments, and looked into the bottom of the glass. Red droplets were running down its basin forming a little pool at the bottom. His vision around the wine blurred away, and for a moment, it looked to him that he was staring deeply into a bottomless lake of blood. Then he took a breath and looked up at Elisa once more. His eyes had gone red, and he found it difficult to keep his voice steady as he spoke again.

  “It has come to my attention that some weeks ago, a northern royal took a band of his soldiers into my father’s house where he slaughtered every last member of my tribe.” His jaw trembled with sorrow and rage. “If you were to ask me now for any proof of this, I must tell you that I have none. And I cannot tell you how I came by this truth. If you ever see your Magi again, you may ask him to confirm all that I have told you. But, until then, I ask only that you listen to me now.” The two listeners remained silent, slightly leaning towards the speaker. “You want to know if the south is to be trusted during this time of war. I tell you, without hesitation or doubt in my heart, that, if they were to extend their hand in companionship, your highness would do well to swiftly cut it off from their arm.” Giles broke his eye contact, as a tear finally fell from his eye. Elisa struggled to find words, and as she opened her mouth to try and speak, there came a cry of a soldier upon the wall. A few of them seemed to be crying out, though in no great desperation. Something about a rider approaching the gate. The jarring sound made her blink, finding her own eyes were growing misty. She looked away from the prisoner, and took a breath.

  “Magnus, would you please see what that is about?”

  “Of course, my lady.” Magnus began walking away, but stopped next to Giles and placed a comforting hand upon his shoulder. “Head up.” Was all he could say before moving on and out of the hall. The two stood in silence for some time before the queen moved to sit down at the wooden table she had placed her book at. Looking down at her lap, she spoke.

  “I once saw a woman spinning a wheel in our village, crafting pottery jars and the like.” Giles did not look at her, but kept his head bowed. His tears fell into the cup, mixing with the wine, thinning out its deep red. “I was simply amazed at the skill this woman had. The way she moved her hands with the grace of a cloud, and suddenly the clay took new shape. I knew only that I wished to do the same. Though I didn’t know what the woman was using to make the pots.” She laughed softly to herself. “My mother found me at our table, covered in pounds of mud and forming little bowls. She was furious. When my father arrived, she demanded that he take me and teach me a lesson. Oh, I cried all the way out of the house. I expected such a beating for what I had done. But it never came. Instead, he took me into the village again, right to where the woman was spinning her wheel.” She looked up at Giles, smiling. “He paid her to instruct me in the craft every day after that. Such a funny thing. I miss him very much. As I am sure you miss your father, Mr. Giles.” The prisoner fought with all his might, and halted the tears from his face. Looking up, he swallowed his sorrow and tightened his lips. Elisa stood and straightened her dress. “I feel I must ask,” She took a step closer. “What else have you seen in the south? What causes you to scream out so loudly in the night with terror? The whole castle hears it.” Giles looked at her deeply, and his features changed from sorrow to fear. He wondered how he could possibly explain the story, or if he even wanted to. After such a desperate chase, after so much terror, why must these people keep asking him to bring his mind back to the bridge, to the face looking at him from behind the tree. A memory came to him of the old tribal stories his old nurse would tell him on dark cold nights, to frighten him to his bones.

  “Do,” he started, then blinked, causing more tears to fall. “Do your people believe in the old tales of the demons from the stars?”

  There was no time for Elisa to respond. Magnus came bursting through the tall doors behind the prisoner, and called out to them.

  “Your highness, you are needed at once.” His tone was urgent.

  “What is it, Magnus?”

  “Uriah has returned, with an outlander knight. They have grave news of the Pass. Please, my lady, hurry.”