In the days that followed, the Emperor resumed his visits to Cerena. Neither of them spoke of what had transpired previously, and he had taken no further initiative since then.

  She would serve him a cup of tea, around which they would spend a few moments conversing. Seated on the sofa while he took a chair opposite her, she regarded him with curious eyes.

  “Your Majesty, may I ask you a question?” Cerena ventured on one of those occasions.

  “I attend to thy words.”

  “When we first met, you told me that I came from a royal family… How did you know?”

  He appeared to ponder for a moment before answering.

  “Some things are writ ere they come to pass, and fate is not lightly swayed. The lineage from which thou dost descend bears a power long dormant, whose very existence History alone can attest.”

  “Does that mean you knew, all along, where and when to find me?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Is this power connected to the fact that I did not grow up with my family?”

  “Verily. Misunderstood, such a thing may easily be held an ill omen. Thy progenitors chose to place their faith in a nebulous prophecy, rather than take upon themselves the charge of thy rearing.”

  Surprisingly, this revelation stirred no emotion in Cerena. No resentment, no disappointment. Yet a seed of doubt took root, and further questions crowded her mind.

  “Did you already know what would happen? That they intended to abandon me?”

  “There are matters which one may not foresee nor control, especially when others are entwined therein.”

  The Emperor paused, regarding her attentively, then smiled.

  “And yet some of them may indeed be brought to pass.”

  Realizing the implication, her eyes widened.

  “Might you be, by any chance… the author of the prophecy?”

  He gave no answer. Then, without breaking that enigmatic smile, he rose and left the room.

  A silence fell over Cerena’s chamber, leaving her dumbfounded, unsure what to make of it.

  ???

  A few days later, Cerena heard lively conversations from the corridor. Then there was a sharp knock at her door. It opened abruptly, and the Captain addressed her in haste.

  “My Lady, I beg your pardon, but would you consent to follow me without delay?”

  Startled by his unusual urgency, Cerena asked,

  “Follow you where, and for what purpose?”

  “I fear we have no time to discuss it. This is an emergency.”

  Cutting the conversation short, he stepped aside and, in a quick but respectful bow, gestured for her to proceed ahead.

  Seeing his seriousness, Cerena obeyed without hesitation, taking the lead, followed by the Captain and two other guards.

  The Captain urged her forward, eventually positioning himself in front of her, casting frequent worried glances toward his subordinates. She had never seen him act this way before, and it only deepened her unease.

  They came to a sudden halt at the entrance to the previous level, alerted by the sound of approaching footsteps.

  A figure appeared on the stairs, followed by two others. Cloaks concealing their faces, their identities were hidden, but their intentions were unmistakable: the sword or dagger in hand left no doubt.

  Seeing them, Cerena flinched, her heart leaping in her chest. She knew nothing of what was occurring outside the palace; yet she had the unsettling premonition that they had come for her.

  The Captain drew his sword, taking a defensive stance between her and the intruders.

  “Take her to safety; I shall buy you time,” he commanded the two soldiers, who had likewise drawn their weapons, ready to fight.

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  Gripped by equal parts fear and confusion, Cerena wished to ask for an explanation, but one of the guards cut her off.

  “This way, My Lady, please,” he said.

  A gentle press on her shoulder urged her to move immediately in the direction they had come from. She cast one last anxious glance at the Captain, standing firm behind them, his massive frame a shield. She heard the clash of steel as they turned the corner, silently praying for his survival.

  After several minutes of hurried walking, breathless but convinced of her safety, she finally dared to ask,

  “What is happening? Who are these people?”

  “Intruders who have managed to penetrate the palace. They have come for you, My Lady,” replied one of the soldiers.

  “For me? But why?”

  “You are precious to the Emperor.”

  Her intuition had been correct. But what exactly did they want from her? Were they here to kill her? To abduct her?

  A sudden thought crossed her mind. What if they were here to save her? Perhaps even Owen was among them?

  Yet as she pondered this, a whistle snapped her back to reality, followed by a groan and a metallic sound. Beside her, one of the soldiers fell, a crossbow bolt lodged in his throat.

  Cerena gasped, bringing her hands to her face, while the second soldier prepared to defend her.

  Two men now faced them, and while the second slowly reloaded his crossbow, his companion advanced against the guard armed with a blade.

  “My Lady,” the guard said, “prepare to run. Reinforcements must be on their way.”

  Her heart pounding, Cerena stepped back as the confrontation began. The guard’s armor was solid enough to prevent injury, but his opponent, clad in simple clothing and a dark leather breastplate, had the advantage of agility and speed.

  In an uneven fight, it was only a matter of time before the guard met the same fate as his comrade.

  Realizing the situation was desperate, Cerena turned to flee—but came face to face with a third intruder who seized her arm, moving behind her with fluid precision. She felt a thin, sharp object pressed against her back.

  Just as she heard the guard’s final breath behind her, the man holding her whispered into her ear:

  “Advance without sound or any sudden movement, Highness, and all shall go well.”

  He pushed her forward with no gentleness, forcing her around the corner. Cerena, breathless, had no choice but to comply.

  He guided her confidently through the corridors, pausing at the slightest suspicious noise. Behind them, more footsteps echoed—Cerena guessed they were his accomplices who had slain the guards.

  After several minutes, Cerena decided to take a desperate chance, questioning her captors.

  “Who are you, and what do you want from me?”

  “Silence,” he replied curtly.

  Frustrated by her failed attempt to learn more, she chose to comply. They continued onward for a long while. Cerena had not realized there were multiple exits, but they eventually found a staircase descending to the lower floor.

  Yet no sooner had they arrived than they came face to face with the Captain of the Guard. His armor was spattered with blood, but he himself appeared unscathed. He barred their path, casting a brief glance at Cerena to ensure she was unharmed, before stepping forward.

  But the man holding her slid his dagger across the young woman’s neck, pressing the blade against her skin and threatening to sever her throat.

  “Step aside, or she dies instantly,” the man announced.

  “That is impossible,” the Captain replied, unshaken. “I cannot allow you to pass.”

  When the man pressed the blade harder, drawing a shallow cut across her skin, she winced and moaned in pain.

  “If you kill her,” the Captain warned, his expression grim, “be assured that you will never leave this place alive.”

  Cerena felt a slight movement from the man holding her, as if his threat had taken effect.

  As they began to retreat slowly with Cerena, one of the men still behind advanced, preparing to confront the soldier.

  But suddenly, a sharp sound reached her from behind: the thud of a body collapsing. She felt the man behind her startle, and, turning her head slightly, she saw with horror a head, severed from its body, roll across the floor.

  Shocked, she gasped. Her captor spun around, placing Cerena as a human shield between himself and the one who had just decapitated one of the intruders.

  The Emperor stood there, his pure silver hair stark against a gaze she had never witnessed before—outwardly calm, yet seething with towering rage.

  The luminous sword he held bore not a drop of blood from the victim strewn upon the ground, as if he had cut so swiftly and cleanly that the liquid had not even touched it.

  In an instant, the Emperor vanished from Cerena’s sight, making her heart skip a beat, a bitter memory resurfacing. At the same moment she heard the Captain engaging his adversary behind them, she felt the tension in her arms ease, and the man who had held her collapsed to the floor.

  She should have been able to breathe, but could not tear her gaze from the headless body at her feet.

  Breathless, she sank to her knees, trembling, but was caught by the Emperor. He held her against him, a gesture as much to support as to reassure.

  As the tension gradually subsided, Cerena slowly comprehended what had occurred. Tears streamed down her face, and she let herself be overwhelmed by her emotions, burying her face in his shoulder.

  Lifting her gently with both hands, the Emperor guided her to safety.