Disclaimer: Seriously? See chapter 6!

Will's eyes flickered open. His arms ached and his head was swimming. The world was spinning like a whirlpool around him. He blinked. He was tied to a tree, in a part of the forest that was unfamiliar to him.

"Will!" he heard an urgent whisper beside him. Every joint in his back and neck protested as he turned his head to see the dishevelled form of Evanlyn beside him.

"Evanlyn," he said hoarsely. "What –"

"Some cousin of mine decided she'd like to try her hand at usurping my father," Evanlyn explained bitterly. "She sent fifteen men after me, when I was out hunting."

"Oh," replied Will groggily, "So that's why you're here. Why did they take me?"

"Do you know anyone called Alda?" asked Evanlyn, "because he mentioned he wants revenge against you."

The colour drained from Will's face. "He was a Battleschool bully that was expelled a few years back. And I did have something to do with that," he told her.

"Ah," replied Evanlyn. "Well, I see how he'd be good at being a bully."

It was only then Will realized just terrible Evanlyn looked. Her hair was a bloody mass, and her eyes were bloodshot and wild. His eyes widened in alarm, and he wondered why it had taken him so long to register her terrible state. But of course, he wasn't used to seeing her in her regal status as Princess Cassandra anyway, and there had been times in Skandia when she had looked a great deal worse.

"Merkhliné?" asked Will.

"Lady Merkhliné," replied Evanlyn. "A dear cousin of mine who is intent on becoming Queen in the near future."

"Did she… did Alda…" Will's stomach lurched, "hurt you?"

Evanlyn laughed. "Oh, she wanted me to call her 'Your Highness.' As if that was going to happen, I am Crown Princess after all."

"Do you think she'll succeed?" Will asked dubiously.

"Of course not!" Evanlyn laughed. "She's mad!" Will relaxed considerably.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, Princess" a deep, drawn–out voice sneered. Will looked up to see a wiry, strangely familiar man standing above him.

Evanlyn rolled her eyes. "Will, meet Jerome," she said, putting on her most royal air. "He fancies himself King of Araluen, at Lady Merkhliné's side."

"We've met," said Will shortly. Whoever Lady Merkhliné was, Evanlyn clearly didn't take her seriously. And so neither would Will.

"Yes, I daresay we have," drawled Jerome. "Hello, Will."

"So that's why you kidnapped me, as well as Eva – Cassandra," muttered Will. "Childish revenge."

"Oh yes, childish revenge," smirked Jerome, "Although I don't desire revenge anymore. All I want is to see Lady Merkhliné crowned Queen. But Alda was so determined, so desperate for childish revenge. So he'll be taking care of you two once Lady Merkhliné and I take our leave."

"Taking your leave?" Evanlyn spat.

"Oh, didn't you know?" Jerome smirked, "There's a Gallican ambassador due to arrive in Court tomorrow."

Evanlyn shuddered. "That proves it," she muttered. "You're all mad."

"Perhaps," replied Jerome, "Well, I'll see you later."

Will glanced at Evanlyn as they watched him leave, and a cold hand clenched his heart. All colour had drained from Evanlyn's face, and her green eyes were wild with fear.

"If Merkhliné goes under her own name," she stammered, "Then she will be recognised as my father's cousin, who is indeed Gallican. If I'm out of action, then, as a member of court, she would be next in line for the throne."

"They won't contact Gallica, to be sure she's legitimate?" asked Will.

"They might," replied Evanlyn, "but I'm sure all messages are being diverted to her allies, being the ones who set it all up, anyway."

"Will they succeed?" wondered Will fearfully.

"They might," replied Evanlyn, turning to her friend. "But if we get out of here, they won't."


Halt watched the Gallican ambassador with keen eyes. She seemed shy and unsure, as if she was unfamiliar with situations in Court. Of course, she was only nineteen years of age, the same age as Princess Cassandra, who handled herself very well in such situations. But Cassandra had grown up in Court, whereas the young ambassador had probably only recently joined the Service Diplomatique du Gallica, (Gallican diplomatic service) and was inexperienced. Her companion, on the other hand, was loud and boisterous, and Halt couldn't shake the feeling that he'd seen him before.

Still, Halt remained suspicious. Why would Gallica send someone so young and inexperienced? Unless… Lady Merkhliné was King Duncan's cousin, and next in line for the throne after Princess Cassandra. Were Merkhliné to assume the throne, then Araluen would become a Gallican province. Briefly, Halt wondered if Merkhliné's arrival was somehow connected to the Princess's disappearance. If it was, then that was an act of war.

Of course, it was equally possible that Halt's suspicions were unmerited, but he would continue to be suspicious until Princess Cassandra was safely returned and he was certain of Gallica's intentions.

Lady Merkhliné glanced about her, self–consciously, and Halt immediately drew his gaze away from her. He thought about warning the King, but discarded the idea. Duncan already had too much on his mind at the moment with his daughter's disappearance, and besides, the last thing Halt wanted to do was cause suspicion towards Gallica. But that didn't mean he was going to keep his thoughts to himself.

When the feast finished, and the King half-heartedly declared a dance, Halt watched the ambassador and her companion move together towards the dance floor. He saw Crowley standing a few meters away, and edged over to him. He began to explain in a hushed tone, but Crowley interrupted him.

"I know, Halt, I was thinking the same," he said jovially. "After all, Lady Merkhliné is King Duncan's cousin. Don't whisper, it looks suspicious. Nobody can hear us over all this noise anyway."

"So do you think it may have something to do with Cassandra's disappearance?" asked Halt, forcing himself to laugh.

"It's possible. We should investigate," replied Crowley. "The thing is, if we are seen taking an interest, people will be suspicious."

"We'll ask someone else, then," said Halt. "How about Horace? He's smart enough, and I'd trust him with my life."

"He'd do the trick," replied Crowley, waving his arms to where Horace stood alone in the corner. "How about you talk to him?"

Halt glanced at where the young knight stood. There was an overcast look upon Horace's face. He was quite upset about Evanlyn, Halt knew, but he also knew Horace well enough to know that something was bothering him. "I think I will, before he's swept away by one of the ladies," Halt replied. "I'll see you later, Crowley."

Halt weaved his way over to where Horace stood. "Halt," the young knight greeted him.

"Hello, Horace" replied Halt. "What's bothering you?"

Horace's brow furrowed. "Something really strange. Does the ambassador's companion look at all familiar to you?"

Halt shrugged. "Yes, he does a little. Why?"

"Because," Horace said flatly, "He's Jerome."

Halt's eyes widened. "Are you sure?" he asked gruffly.

"I'm certain," replied Horace. "He's changed a lot, but that's him."

"So either things have changed dramatically for Jerome, although that's unlikely considering what Bryn told us," said Halt, "or Merkhliné's an imposter."

"Seems like it. Do you think someone may want war with Gallica?"Horace asked.

"I think," replied Halt, "That somebody fancies herself Queen of Araluen. Lady Merkhliné is the King's cousin."

Horace's eyes widened. "I'll leave for Gallica early tomorrow morning, to make sure she isn't who she says she is. Will you cover for me?"

"I will," replied Halt. "For now, you may want to ask her to dance. See how much you can find out from her."

"Good idea," said Horace. "I'll see you later." With that, the young knight moved to where Lady Merkhliné now sat, fanning herself in the corner of the room.

Halt glanced at Lady Merkhliné, and shook his head. "Silly girl," he muttered.


Upon Blaze, Gilan's mind raced. Bryn had given him a long and detailed account on how Jerome and Alda were in league with a woman called Merkhliné, who was, in fact, the King's cousin. He understood that she fancied herself Queen of Araluen, and by posing as a Gallican ambassador under her own name, she was the rightful heir, after Evanlyn. So she had kidnapped Evanlyn and Will, and was planning to kill the King.

"How do you know all this?" he asked Bryn.

Upon the young Ranger horse that Old Bob had given him, Bryn laughed. "There's a few of her followers who seem to think I'm one of them," he replied.

"Tell me more about Merkhliné," Gilan said.

"Oh, she's a silly girl" laughed Bryn, "Always looking at a mirror, playing with her hair, that sort of thing."

"Sounds like she'd be a terrible Queen," said Gilan. "How old is she exactly?"

Bryn shrugged. "About nineteen," he replied, "the same age as the Princess."

"Well, she may the same age as Eva – Princess Cassandra," said Gilan, "but I assure you, Cassandra's not nearly so idiotic."


The next afternoon, Horace came crashing into Halt's room. "Try not to break the door," Halt muttered.

"Nice to see you too, Halt," replied Horace, helping himself to some coffee.

Halt sighed. "Okay, Horace. What did you find out?"

"I talked to a Gallican official," replied Horace. "There is a Lady Merkhliné living in Gallica, but she has nothing to do with courtly affairs and definitely doesn't work for the Service knows nothing of an ambassador in Araluen,and he was genuinely concerned for Princess Cassandra's wellbeing."

"We'd better warn King Duncan," said Halt urgently. But when they reached the King's chambers, he was gone.

Since Gallica is medieval France, I figured that the relationship between it and Araluen (being medieval England) would be weak. The French and English royal families did intermarry to attempt to prevent wars, so King Duncan could easily have a Gallican cousin.

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