By dawn the entire palace had settled comfortably into its gossip and intrigue of the day that would be heard in both whispers and roars in every corner--the mysterious death of Lord Orson. His body had been removed to who knew where and most of the blood had been mopped from the hall, but the man was for the day the most popular one around, at least as chattering was concerned. No one had really liked him all that much, and for some more in the know of palace politics, the death was not a surprise, but there still remained the question of who.

There was a knife, a simple dirk of unremarkable and perfectly ordinary craftsmanship, stuck between Lord Orson's ribs. And nothing else. What evidence was there to send fingers pointing or talk beyond frightened and curious tongues? Blood had ran sticky and gushing, and more than a few had nightmares that night. Who would do such a thing? King Cherdith's kingdom was hardly powerful in a worldly sense, though it held its own, and his advisors and court officials would hardly qualify themselves to anything but a jealous rage of revenge. It was personal, of course. The people of the palace were scared, for who wouldn't be? But a threat to others? No one else could be in danger, though as was agreed Lord Orson was not well-liked. Who could hate him so much? It was a question Peter, Hyrum, and the other guards spent the night trying to decide. Peter had his eyes on a few people, but what did he know?

Andrea Hill eventually had to decide that she was the only soul in the entire palace that really didn't care.

Probably downright selfish of her, she thought as she dressed that morning into the simple outfit practical for a maid. A man was dead, another spirit returned to God and heaven, if that's where fates willed Lord Orson go. Shouldn't she be sorrowful? Shouldn't she care? Shouldn't she at least be interested?

But there was no point. She stared hard into the mirror she shared with the other female servants as she brushed her hair. She had never been all that curious, though she would have expected a murder to do something for her. All the stories and plots she could be inventing in her head... nothing came out. She sighed and pulled the brush through her dark hair once more. She had always been proud of her hair. Why hadn't that man thought it pretty? Others had always thought her pretty. At least that had been what they had said. Herself... she wasn't sure. But she did like her hair: good, rich, dark, and thick.

But apparently Jay Miller only thought beautiful girls like Caroline.

Andrea slammed the brush down on the dresser, willing herself not to cry. Too bad, it wasn't working. She sniffed and rubbed her eyes. She never should have let Caroline follow Jay. Of course Jay would want Caroline. Who wouldn't? Caroline was pretty, loud, fun. She was a ray of light. She could talk to anyone! Andrea had never been that way. Going out to the gate... that had been so thrilling, but at the same time sickening. She never did things like that. It was so horrible of her. And Jay hadn't even wanted to speak to her.

The door of the room opened, releasing giggles and whispers. Andrea caught fresh tidbits of the state of the Lord Orson case. A girl named Hannah and Caroline.

Caroline would want to know about last night.

Maybe Andrea could make something up.

Sure enough, Caroline's round face appeared in the corner of the mirror, the pale gold face of Hannah looking over her. "Good morning, dearest!" Caroline sang, arm stretched up the door frame.

The hair looked good enough. Andrea turned around. "Good morning." Voice as sweet as could be.

Caroline's bright grin did not slip. The girl had to be oblivious. "How was your meeting with the gold spinner's brother?"

Hannah gave out a dignified gasp.

Andrea bit her lip and let her fingers tangle together. "It went... well."

And then the smile fail. Caroline's arm fell as she stepped forward into the room. "Andrea? You did go, didn't you? I mean, I saw you go."

Of course she had went. Caroline had practically threw her from the room.

Caroline sighed, then grabbed her by the shoulders. Andrea hated it when Caroline did such things. So... forceful. "Andrea, please tell me that you met Jay Miller and did not run off to play in the gardens. Or I will kill you!"

"I went. I didn't play in the gardens."

Caroline gave a small gasp. "Please tell me he was there."

Andrea nodded.

Caroline released her, hands clapping as she bounced up and down with joy. "Then we should be celebrating! You proved to me that you have a backbone! You were magnificently brave, my dear!" Then, like lightening, the dance stopped, smile shifting into a glare. "Oh, wait. We can't celebrate, because unless my senses are losing their powers, you aren't happy when you have every reason to be. Did it not go well?"

Well, the tears were already out. Andrea wiped her eyes again. "Caroline, he didn't even know who I was. He thought he was meeting you!" And then she dropped to her knees, crying. So humiliating. She knew Caroline would never truly mock her, but she hated crying in front of anyone.

"Andrea." Caroline's voice softened to a gentle tisk. "I... I didn't think that would happen."

"Did you even mention my name when you followed him?"

Caroline hesitated. "I... I might have forgot. But I didn't think..."

Caroline never thought.

"... I didn't think he assumed I meant me!"

Why wouldn't she? Another one of Caroline's many virtues. "He did! Caroline, I'm not as pretty as you, you can get any man you want! Look at who you have right now!"

Caroline sniffed. "As if that will ever go anywhere. But this isn't about me. Andrea, listen to me. Men are foolish and lack any sort of intelligence. Who cares what he was there for? It was your job to make him want you! And you're much more beautiful than I am!"

"No, I'm not."

"No, no, no. I always tell you not to say such things about yourself." With a twist of the arm, Caroline pulled her to her feet. "You're so lucky you have me around. All the effort I go through so you can talk to a man besides the idiots swarming this palace... well, it's going to pay off! Everything I do eventually does."

Andrea realized that she didn't have much of a choice in the matter. "What about the murder?"

"If a murderer comes near you, I'll kill him myself, dear. Unless, of course, he's handsome and I think he would be good for you."

Hannah laughed from her continued position in the doorway.

Andrea forced a smile. Caroline was never going to let this go.

Too bad she already knew Jay didn't want her.

This was all about them, William was sure of it. He paced the room he had been given, too afraid that if he dared step outside into the hall he would be caught. It was a fear that had been on the back of his mind for years, that sneaking promise that one day that righteousness would eventually catch up with their lives. That had always been a big part of the fun, granted, but besides a few run-ins with smaller law nothing had ever truly happened.

Only a king or a noble would have the power to send out a killer.

William glanced at the window, glanced at the door, glanced under the bed where a more unwise assassin would be lurking. He almost screamed when the door was flung open and Lake danced her way in.

"No new leads yet, Papa," she said, immediately crossing the floor to the mirror to check her reflection.

Probably wishing she had more ridiculous jewels to hang in her ears. "You don't seem to concerned over this, pet."

She glanced over her shoulder back at him, smiling wisely. "Should I be? According to Peter and Prince Isaac, we've nothing to be afraid of. In fact, I heard a rumor that it was a ghost. I find it all rather hilarious. Someone the other day, I can't remember who, was talking about staging a murder for Isaac. Ah, I think it was Peter. He can be so funny that way, but so can Isaac so it would be a wonderful joke."

She no doubt expected a chuckle, but all William could do was frown. He had always thought the girl had more brains than this. "You don't seem concerned at all."

"Papa, there is nothing to worry about! Old Cherdith has ordered a questioning of half the people in this pretty house. Really, I'm going with the ghost theory."

"And?"

She whirled around with an irritated sigh. For a moment all William could see was Mary. Lake had that same spirit in her eyes. "No one is else is concerned!"

"No one else in this palace is a criminal!"

Lake stared at him, silent.

William took a deep breath. The statement had blown from his mouth with more anger than he intended, but he didn't care. Lake was growing careless. He tried again. "Daughter, did it ever occur to you that maybe this killer was looking for us?"

Her brown eyes widened. "I..."

He stomped his foot into the ground. "Yes, that is exactly what I'm thinking. This place seemed too simple. A kind king, wild son, and palace staff you're getting on rather friendly with, Lake. Not to mention the Prince." He glared at her.

She took a step back. "The guards are fun. I've given them names."

Good grief. He rolled his eyes. "Have you given the Prince a name?"

"Papa, he's kind and he's interesting... what about the people in Wheat Hill?"

"Lake, we've made friends before. There's nothing wrong with making friends." He regretted his words the moment they were out of this mouth. Damn.

But it was too late. Lake had heard them, nabbed them, and ran. She beamed at him wickedly. "That's all I'm doing right now, Papa. Making friends. We'll be gone soon enough. Unless, of course, you're so worried that you want to leave today."

Leave today. Yes, it was something he had considered. "Lake, if we really have been discovered, perhaps it would be best to leave now." He didn't believe it, the safest course would be to remain where they were. A sudden departure would only attract unwanted attention at this stage in the game.

"You can't be serious. Papa, we don't even know if this has anything to do with us!"

"Lake..." He lowered his voice, hoping to calm her.

She shook her head rapidly, hair billowing around her shoulders like fire. "No! I think you're being ridiculous. We just got here. We haven't managed to steal anything but a few worthless trinkets. In spite of everything, Cherdith wants me to spin again tonight. Do you want me to see if he has wrath to ignite by refusing and running off?"

William sighed. She was right, as she often was. "But if you or your brother was killed..."

She laughed. "No one is going to die. This could be anything. Everyone says it's nothing but court intrigue. What else do you want? Was this Orson fellow Jay or yourself?"

He growled in his throat, hating the trap she had pulled him into. "No."

"And surely an angry victim would be good enough to recognize us."

"Perhaps it's a warning."

She laughed again, kissed him on the cheek, and headed for the door. "You can go back to the village, Papa. But I'll stay here and take my chances. Kings always have the good stuff."

In spite of himself he gave a small smile. "I plan to leave for Wheat Hill in a few hours."

"Good. Send Jay tonight, we'll be needing him. Though I can't imagine what sort of king wants gold after his advisor is slaughtered."

"Maybe to pay for lavish funeral expenses?"

Lake pulled the door open, grinning. "I bet that's it. Farewell."

William bid her goodbye, then sighed. He couldn't shake the feeling of dread. No wonder he had kept on about this. Foolish. There were so many other possible explanations, if he would only think about them.

He made his way to the window and stared off into the forest.

He wondered if Galdea were out there.

Lake sauntered down the hall from the room, laughing to herself. She had forgotten how odd her father could be. One little slip and he always assumed they had been discovered! Did he never think of anything else?

Not that there wasn't the odd possibility... she shook the thought away. Why be afraid for herself? A murder had happened, and it had been a long time since she had been in the presence of a good murder.

It was nearing noon, and the halls were alive with rambling and echoing voices. Sometimes it surprised how full the palace was. Servants, courtiers, everything... why couldn't a palace just return to being the home of a king and queen? Why were palaces needed, anyway? Why couldn't royalty just live in an extra-nice cottage with a spare room for visiting nobility? No one was practical anymore. Oh, well. A cottage wouldn't have all the nifty things one could find in a palace.

Besides, for some reason, a murder in a palace was much more dramatic than a murder in a humble cottage. Livestock were killed on farms. A sorceress might summon an evil spirit to make someone's cow give sour milk, but that was about as exciting as it got. But a spacious palace full of dark corners, locked rooms, and hidden passage ways... that was something that got the imagination going.

And Lake liked to get her imagination going.

Humming an old ditty she had heard from a gypsy violin, she made her way to the area where she had first seen Lord Orson, in all his bloody glory, last night. A few dark spots on the floor showed where the body had been. Lake half-wondered if the late Orson had been given to the cooks so that tonight's feast would be an unwitting display of cannibalism. She grinned.

Several future eaters of Lord Orson were already there. Cherdith himself— finally a king that was interested in what happened inside his own walls, and guards. She felt rather disappointed; she had hoped Isaac might have been there. But no, just the king and a few guards, namely Peter, the Badger, the Bear, and two others she randomly decided to call the Frog and the Kitten. The Kitten was talking excitedly to the king, while Peter listened on and the Bear crouched on the floor. Who knew what the Frog and the Badger were doing. Apparently looking important. Surely guards needed to look important, especially when bad things like a murder happened.

She almost waved seductively at the Badger, but decided against it. The spunky little country girl didn't go that far with her tramp-like instincts. Though it would have been funny to see what he would have done. Peter gave her a stern glare, and for a moment she thought he would shoo her way, but in the end he only smiled. King Cherdith didn't even notice her.

"I just was curious," she said, approaching the group.

The Frog frowned. "I don't think a woman should be around this... too frightening."

"I'm brave," she said, straightening up. "I've seen some things in my days, and if Peter doesn't care..."

Peter nodded as the Frog looked at him for approval. "She can stay, Jerome."

Lake winked at the Frog, who paled, and crouched down across from the Bear. "Interesting blood," she said.

He grunted something that sounded agreeing, but didn't look up at her.

"So," she said happily. "Who do you think killed him? Or do you buy into the murderous spirit of revenge idea?"

He sighed and finally looked at her. "Exactly why would a murderous spirit of revenge only go so far as to stab someone?"

She shrugged. "Well, I haven't thought much about it. Are you saying a ghost might do something more interesting?"

He sighed again. "I don't think it was a ghost, I never considered that possibility. I'm not stupid. Hell, I don't know even know why I'm here. No one liked the man, no one has died since, who cares?"

She shook her head. "So bitter. What if it's a spree and someone is killed tonight."

He almost smiled. "That's exactly what I'm afraid of. Last night all I had to worry about was some stranger having trysts with servant girls and you and the Prince wandering in unsafe areas."

"At least this makes your job more exciting."

He didn't bother to reply.

"Well, maybe we could dig out the blood with your sword there and take it to a witch who could look at it..." she reached over the bloody floor for the handle of his sword.

He stood up, bringing the sword out of reach. "Where did you get an idea like that?"

She smiled up at him, innocent as could be. "I was just curious, sir." She refrained from calling him Bear, then climbed to her own feet. Well, she had plenty of other things she could do before she was expected to spin.

The sun was lowering itself to its fullest blaze, bringing with it the final touches of evening. He wasn't near a window, but Peter could feel it anyway. He sighed deeply, grinning. He had just taken Miss Lake Miller to that ridiculous little dungeon room for her spinning. Straw into gold. He still couldn't believe it himself. The girl had talent. Though for the life of him he couldn't figure out why she was so excited over a dungeon room. He had suggested to the King to give her something nicer, and while King Cherdith certainly would have agreed, Lake had refused. Well, in Peter's eyes it made her all the more likeable.

He had evening post that night, and he took is place at the eastern gate. Hyrum was already there, reading another book.

"You can't keep watch while reading," Peter said.

Hyrum grunted his reply.

Peter laughed. "If someone else dies tonight, I shall tell everyone it is your fault. How would you like that?"

"I have ears, Peter. If I hear a sound, I am perfectly capable of looking up."

"What if your..."

"My hearing is excellent."

Peter laughed again, shrugging. "Really, what if Lord Orson's murderer really does return?"

Hyrum slammed the book shut with one hand. "Peter, you seem so lighthearted about this."

That was the truth. Peter took a moment to think about it. Worrying excessively was not in his nature. "Tyrone is being questioned. This has never happened. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel."

"Panicked, maybe? I was told no one liked Lord Orson, but still..." Hyrum shook his head.

"Hyrum, you've been here only a few months. You're young and naive."

Hyrum gave an irritated sigh. "Just change the subject, and I'll be sure to keep all killers away. Is that girl all settled in to do her little gold spinning trick?"

Peter studied Hyrum's face. "You don't seem impressed."

"I just can't figure out how straw could possibly be turned into gold."

"Neither can I." But that was part of the fun. "But if she has a gift, why can't she use it?"

"She's a strange little bat, that's all I'm saying." Hyrum flipped open his book again.

Peter paused, thinking how best to bring out the next statement. "But she's a good-hearted girl, you can tell."

"I'm sure she is."

"And I hate to break this to you, but I'm almost positive King Cherdith is saving her for his son."

"And I care why?" Hyrum muttered.

Peter shrugged, grinning widely. "I'm just letting you know that, so that your hopes aren't dashed."

The book was slammed shut again, and Hyrum glared at him with grey eyes. "What?"

"I've been in love, too, Hyrum, many a time. I know how it feels."

"I'm not in love with her," Hyrum said flatly.

"Of course. Love takes time, but interest..."

"I have no interest in her. She's a pest that can make gold."

Peter nodded with some understanding, but the grin was still on his face. "Are you sure? I know you somewhat, Hyrum, and I've seen you near her."

Hyrum reached for his sword.

Peter held up a hand and gave a defeated sigh. "All right, then. I was just stating my thoughts. What do I know?" He started to whistle.

Hyrum practically ripped the book open.

Peter slowly counted to ten in his mind.

"I'm not in love with Lake," Hyrum all but shouted.