Rose was sitting on a chair in what she assumed was the prince’s private bedroom. It was made of leather and quite comfortable, although of course, she couldn’t think of that, not when her hands were trembling so much; and not when she was so scared.

  “Alright, Lady Wynthart, you may be quite tired, but I must ask you to go through this again.” Maran said, bringing in a different, less comfortable, most likely purely ornamental, chair from out of the room. “If only to cement this strange story of yours.”

  She nodded, it was the fourth time she told the same story, and she did it with the same exact words. It didn’t matter that they questioned it, which they were perfectly in the right to do, to be honest, since it was so unbelievable. If she didn’t know better, having seen the aftermath of the event, and seeing that both Miss Rabineau and his Highness could also see it, she would have assumed herself, for the second time in a very short period, to have gone completely mad.

  “With your voice, Lady Wynthart?” Maran asked, with the same exact beats as she had done so the previous two times. “Are you entirely sure?”

  Yes, she was sure, of course she was sure. She knew how her voice sounded. And no, she didn’t mean she knew how it sounded from hearing every time she talked, she was aware that there was a massive difference between how a person hears it and how others do. She had heard recordings of her voice. And that was how it sounded when that… that thing had talked to her, like a recording of her.

  “And she,” Rose’s lip trembled, briefly, as much as her hands did. “And it told me that I was awake.”

  “That you were awake and…” Maran egged her to continue.

  “And would soon be ready to assume my fate and crush my enemies behind my heel as I ascend to my throne.” Rose repeated it, almost mechanically, the words having been engraved in fire in her mind. She thought that the fear of whatever that was could have blocked them at some point, but that wasn’t the case, and she prayed that it would be at some point. She prayed that the memories of such a horrible thing would just disappear.

  “And then, it disappeared. Correct?” Maran asked. She had brought in a notebook and had written down the whole thing through the second time she told it. “Can you tell me again, please, how long did this entire interaction take?”

  “It was like time itself had come to a stop, and it was a very short interaction, but… If the clock in the parlor is to be trusted, just under a quarter of an hour. There was a difference of twenty minutes since I left and when I ran back here. I must have taken less than five minutes to leave, get up, get to his Highness’ study. And then, when my legs let me, I ran down here and called.” Rose explained. The times didn’t quite fit inside her head, but that was what happened.

  “Then, by your own calculations, when did this encounter take place?” Maran asked.

  “I’m not quite sure… Maybe just past three?” Rose replied. She was sure the clock at the parlor chimed only once, but when she arrived back there, and saw the time, it was just over a quarter past three.

  Maran wrote a couple more things in her notebook and rose from her chair. “Lady Wynthart, I am quite sure that you must rest for some time, so I will take my leave, thank you, and I am so sorry for whatever that was.”

  “Miss Rabineau!” Rose also rose from her chair. “I know that you already told me, but please, I beg you, he is here, at just a few paces away. Cannot I just talk with his Highness?”

  Maran turned around, her brow furrowing. Her lips shaping into a no before she heard some noise and then sighed. The prince was at the bedroom’s door. He, visibly intentionally, wasn’t looking towards Rose.

  “Maran, can you hand me your notebook and pen, please, I need paper to get the numbers.” He was using her first name. Rose grabbed her own sleeves. She didn’t know what to think, but she was managing to keep those unpleasant voices away. Since the incident a handful of hours away, she had not heard them at all. Although she wasn’t lowering her guard just yet.

  His Highness and Miss Rabineau had arrived at the villa approximately an hour after she called her residence, scared out of her mind, claiming that someone had entered the house. She had left out the part about that thing appearing out of nowhere and then vanishing into thin air until after she had managed to calm herself enough to speak and they were both with her. They had found her in the parlor, covered by a sheet, hugging a pillow and she had attacked them, fortunately without causing any harm, with a fireplace poker that she had grabbed into as an improvised weapon. Then they had given her some tea and accompanied her for close to an hour until she managed to speak.

  Both seemed to be quite worried about her safety. Which seemed to calm something deep below her that she wasn’t entirely aware even existed.

  After she had done the first, understandably chaotic, explanation of the events, completely out of order and giving out begs for forgiveness and self-deprecating mutters about how she must have gone insane, the price went to his laboratory in the side pavilion outside, even under the rain, and brought in several objects that she couldn’t quite identify. Magical stuff, she assumed. Although there was no way this horror she had gone through could have been done with magic. There was no spellpaper around big enough for spells like the ones that were used, even if the prince had put on a strange expression when she described how bright the place was when she saw the apparition.

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  “Well?” Maran asked, looking towards the prince, who had finished scribbling and then had gone pale. “Is it an illusion?”

  “No. It… it was unlikely, given that to make illusions that realistic you need a full-on machine containing the spellpaper circuits right next to whenever the trick has to happen. Of course, we couldn’t discard it. But this amount of magic…” The prince began muttering to himself and then began quickly scribbling again. Rose didn’t understand nearly anything about magic, but she had a good enough grasp of mathematics and it seemed to her like he was revising equations to see if they were wrong. Judging by his small grunt at the end, they’re all correct. “Impossible. Utterly impossible.”

  He showed the notebook to both Maran and Rose. It was incomprehensible to both.

  “Maran, what was the step by step interval in the chronological diminishment of ambient mana?” He asked, for Rose, that was a word salad.

  “Nine. You know this.” Maran replied.

  “Right, nine. Alright, if we assume that the times Rose told us are more or less correct, and there were just twenty minutes. And if we put that next to my readings in the spot. She shouldn’t be here right now.” He said, sounding quite alarmed. Maran rose an eyebrow as she asked a simple why.

  “Because if this is right. She wouldn’t be alive.” He blurted.

  Rose locked eyes with him, her mouth agape.

  “My apologies. But it is true. There had to be enough energy where this shadow person appeared to reduce a single person to a burning skeleton. Either the times are not right, or… Or I have no idea of what happened here. It does not many any sense.” The prince said, closing the notebook and falling into the chair Maran had risen up from.

  “Then… Then explain how it is that I am here.” Rose asked, desperate. She wanted to ask him so many other things, so, so many. But the idea of her dying from that event was taking an understandable choke hold in her brain.

  “Maybe his equipment is broken. He has never been one to maintain his things all that well.” Maran chipped in.

  Rose furrowed her brow, staring at her. And this was the woman she had been worried about stealing her fiance?

  Her face felt like it was burning. She wanted to step in and give her some stern words, but the prince sighed, rose from the chair and walked out of the room, returning less than a minute later with the small machines. He sat down and looked over each of them, with pause, in silence, with extreme care not to miss anything. He had obeyed her, and that made Rose even angrier.

  “Nothing of this is in bad state.” He finally said, he sounded tired, but also a bit stern.

  Maran sighed. “Very well then. What do we do?”

  “Your Highness… Rull. May I talk with you?” Rose stepped in. Something in her brain screamed.

  The prince rose his head towards her, took a deep breath, and putting the machines on the floor nodded yes. Maran expression was one of disapproval, but she didn’t say a word. They went outside, to the hallway and then down to the entrance of the villa, silent and with their heads low, as if they were in a funeral.

  “Your Highness.” Rose spoke first. “I will not ask you for an explanation. When you declared that you wanted my hand in marriage, I made a vow to myself that I would trust your judgment in so many matters, even if it was detrimental to me. I told myself that, given your duties, it was natural for you to care about the well being of others. I know that this way of thinking is extremely foolish, but it is mine, and until that night, I had not had a single reason to question it.”

  There was pain, raw pain, in her voice.

  “That girl who was there with you then and is here with you now. I only know her for what she had told me, and I do not know if any of it is true. But she said that this… this horrible thing you both have done to me is for my sake. Was she lying?” Rose crossed her arms, her eyes meeting his.

  “She is not lying.” He said, after a long minute of silence. “This was for your sake and for all of ours.”

  “In a matter that you cannot tell me, like she said” Rose asked, gripping her sleeves so hard that her her nails could rip through the fabric.

  “I can tell you, but it will sound like I am mad, Rose.” He replied.

  “And by not telling me, you make me feel like I am mad, your Highness.” She answered back, taking a step towards him. “I have thought of myself as a prisoner for a day, I was made a prisoner here in this house of stained memories, I have been slandered to the public, many, even in my own hometown, may think of me as a criminal. I have seen today something that you yourself say is impossible and yet,” She pressed one finger against his chest. “You still defend your right not to tell me what is actually happening here.”

  She turned around. “Very well, you have that right. As I said, I will not ask you for an explanation.”

  “You have just done so.” He said. His voice was weak. A thought of him sounding pathetic crossed her mind.

  “No, you have the right to keep your secrets. I will not press you, wether you tell me or not lies entirely within you, your Highness. I trust that you will make the right decision.” She crossed her arms again, her head hanged low, only looking towards the floor.

  A voice then came from the top of the staircase. “Are you two lovebirds done?”

  “Maran, we are in an important discussion.” The prince looked up towards her as she stopped just halfway through the staircase.

  “Very well, I am quite sure that neither of you want to continue with your quarreling, both of you must find it quite unpleasant.” She said. Rose wanted to step in and scream at how disrespectful she was. “However, we still have a more important matter at hand than the fallout of out dumb idea. Namely, the fact that Lady Wynthart is not safe here.”

  Rose was about to ask what did she mean when it struck her. Of course. “Must I assume that I will not be returned home then.”

  The prince was looking at both of them, wildly. Apparently not having been able to continue the talk about their relationship had put him severely out of guard.

  “No, in fact, you will be returning home.” Maran said. “But not to that townhouse, it is potentially even less safe than here. No, you will be going back home, to the province. Tonight you will sleep in my home and I will send you with a small platoon of bodyguards, handpicked by his Highness, tomorrow on the first train. Until we see out what happened, the safest way of thinking about this is assuming that the capital is too dangerous for you to stay.”