It was the grandest day that Deltora had seen in the last two decades. Though few knew of the events that occurred in the Plains, the people could feel that the foreboding that plagued their land had ceased. And as dawn approached, the skies were ignited with colors - dazzling silver-white, emerald green, starry blue, gold, streams of rainbow, scarlet, and warm violet - that confirmed their convictions.

They were free.

It was a day worth celebrating, indeed - but the people, so overcome with joy, had already forgotten the past.

Lief awoke to a light knocking on his chamber door. Sharn entered quietly and sat on the edge of his bed.

"You have best wake up, we have quite a predicament in the hall."

Lief sat up almost immediately at this mention of trouble, a habit he had yet to grow out of due to the last two years of hardship. "What is it?" he asked as he slipped out of bed and began to dress.

Sharn smiled. "You'll see."

Confused, Lief stumbled outside into the hallway.

Lining the corridor were boxes, bundles, and containers all in various sizes and shapes. They accommodated so much space that they stood nearly at Lief's eye level. He opened his mouth, not knowing quite what to say, and instead emitted a weak "What are all these?

"Wedding presents," Sharn responded.

"The wedding is not to be held until spring," he said incredulously. "Why, we were only engaged last month!"

Sharn laughed. "It seems that the people really adore their new king and queen. They're grateful for what you've done for the land." She kissed him on the forehead and left him in the midst of papers and ribbon. He stood there awkwardly, unsure of where to start. He vaguely realized footsteps approaching from his left.

"Lief!"

Immediately his heart was filled with warmth. He turned towards the voice. There at the top of the stairwell was Jasmine, whose wild features and tousled hair greatly contrasted the starkness of the castle walls.
Jasmine rapidly descended the staircase. "I know," she laughed, as Lief gestured towards the presents. "They're hard not to notice. Let's start."

And so the couple spent their entire morning opening the presents, admiring its contents, and then distributing them throughout the palace. Books were sent to the library, to expand its already immense collection; letters were collected and stored to be later archived by Marilen, the new librarian; and fresh flowers were placed in various rooms to brighten the stifled atmosphere.

Even now, trapped between the white walls of the palace, Jasmine still refused to recognize material value. In fact, she seemed to have adopted a new contempt for them, and frequently suggested to have trinkets and trifles sold to foreign markets to sustain trade between Deltora's neighboring islands. Though he agreed, Lief still insisted on enjoying small luxuries that were unavailable during the time of the Shadow Lord's reign. Sorting through the gifts almost became a political debate. The two were disputing over the placement of a glass fish (to which Jasmine explained was tacky despite Lief's protests) when a single, sharp scream pierced the air and disrupted the peaceful atmosphere. Instinctively, the two reached for their weapons. Jasmine pressed her ear against the wall. "It came from the storeroom," she said finally. "I can hear movement in there." Without hesitation she hurried down the hallway. Lief quickly followed suit. He had known her long enough than to question her intuitions.

As they approached the storeroom doors, Lief was suddenly overcome with a sense of dread. From behind the door he could feel strange tremors and hear muffled crashing. At Jasmine's signal, Lief threw open the door and they entered with their weapons drawn.

At first the two only saw vague shadows. The candles that normally lit the room were strewn on the floor, slightly smoking. Lief slowly distinguished a mess of boxes - wedding gifts, apparently - that overflowed from the storage rooms to the kitchens for inspection, as was protocol. However, as he scanned the room he noticed two ominous forms.

In the far corner, clutching a tainted silver knife, was Barda. His head was bowed over an unconscious woman laying in his lap. A trickle of blood flowed from her temple to her chin, staining the white tiles with scarlet. Her pale hands were marred by vicious cuts. Lief's eyes widened in disbelief.

It was Sharn.

He stumbled forward, ignoring Jasmine's cries. He couldn't comprehend even the possibility that Barda could have killed her - yet the proof was undeniable. He tried to think of other possibilities, other circumstances, but could not. The doubt that riddled his mind was plagued with the faith for his companion, but rivaled by the rage over his mother's wounds. He found that the hand holding his sword was trembling, and he sought to steady himself.

Barda, however, seemed not to notice Lief's turmoil, but instead shouted out a warning.

Lief hesitated, and in that instant, a cold hand grabbed his ankle and he fell forward. Turning, he distinguished the twisted form of a palace servant. She was muttering incoherently, but her eyes, filled with malice, bore fiercely into his own. Unnerved, he tried to pull away, but she desperately dug her nails into his ankle. She muttered an inaudible string of words and laughed madly. Then, as if resigning, she averted her eyes and finally collapsed.

It was then that he noticed a deep stab wound in her navel. He abruptly felt sick.

Suddenly, several guards spilled into the room. At their entrance, Lief realized that the threat was not Barda, but rather the fallen servant, whose corpse was now being solemnly carried away. His first reaction was relief that his friend was not a traitor. The second was guilt for actually believing that he was. He hoped that Barda had not noticed his distrust.

With a groan, Barda rose, supporting Sharn on his shoulder. His mouth was set in a firm line. "She will recover," he responded to Lief's worried expression. However, Jasmine was not so easily appeased.

"What happened here?" she demanded indignantly.

Barda glanced at her warily as he headed towards Sharn's bedchamber.

"Thievery."

What? THIEVERY? WHAT IS THAT MAN TALKING ABOUT – oh wait, you'll find out next chapter.

Thanks for reading! Please leave a review, preferably something constructive. Did I portray them out of character? Is my writing style choppy? Is this current plotline a pile of poo?

I'll update when I get the chance. Until then, please tell me how amazingly gorgeous I am. My ego demands it.

Do it. Now.