II. The Heiress

In the throne room, I was on my knees, shocked to discover a lifeless Queen Amice. I checked her for a pulse, even for a faint one. Then, I studied her breathing. None.

She was a shell whose soul had been taken.

I yelled. The helpless cadence of my voice reverberated through the hall, hoping it would stagger to the dining room. "Help!"

A gaze of disbelief fell upon the reposed Queen Amice who was cradled in my arms. I tilted my head up and saw a man in his 50s, standing six-foot-two, approach Her Majesty. "Oh my goodness. My lady, what is going on?" He quivered, lowering himself to scrutinize the Queen.

I explained from my point of view. "Her Majesty excused herself from dinner. It had been twenty minutes since. I began to worry, therefore I looked for her and found..." I gestured at the cadaver, whose life had bled away.

"Did you check her pulse?"

"I did. She doesn't have any..."

The man spoke, attempting to lift a miserable tone from his lips. "My lady, you may go now. I shall take care of Her Majesty."

There was a theory sprouting in my head. I believed that the Queen had been poisoned, and that the venom had come from the wine she drank. "Please be alive," I crossed my fingers despite the fact that the Queen had possibly completely drifted from the world.

I was on the verge of abandoning the throne room when the Heads of House, and Princess Salome crossed the room with worry etched to their faces.

"What's going on here?" Princess Salome inquired. When she witnessed her sister, she rushed to her immediately. "Sister?" She jerked her head up to level her teary gaze at the man. "Sir Quint? Is she going to be alright?"

Sir Quint tried to disguise sadness with a reassuring expression on his face. But he failed, seeing the agitated Princess. "Her Majesty will be examined. We'll bring her to the apothecary."

"Inform security for a perimeter check," Princess Salome ordered.

I spun around and came face-to-face with Lord Adrian. "My Lord," I greeted. "I must go." I walked past him briskly, and wanted to slap myself for sounding suspicious.

He wanted to say something. "My lady-"

When I returned to the dining room, it was bereft of presence. I looked around for any spy, before grasping the stem of the chalice. I recalled a vial in the room I had been earlier. What I required was stealth. From one room to another, I slithered until I somehow managed to bring myself to the kitchen.

The subtle glint of the vial lured my eyes to it. I took off the lid of the chalice then carefully transferred the remnant of grape wine (which I thought must be poisoned). Afterwards, I secured the vial before shoving it down the valley of my breast.

I knew where I was headed next.

* * *

The carriage rolled into a secluded region of Helmburn, away from Town Square. I was not always confined within the walls of the manor. In fact, I travelled outside sometimes, especially when Aunt Genevieve would rip a book out of my grip.

The destination I was going for, was one of the places I had been in when I was younger. Hopefully, it was still there.

I peered through the window, and observed a glowing shape near itself. It was a quaint cottage nestled by the woods. A chimney protruded from the roof billowing out dark curling mists like cigarette smoke.

Then, I dismounted the landau. Once I reached the door, I carried a fist to rap it against the wood. I waited to hear a stifled response from beyond. When I heard clicks of locks, I took a few steps backwards as the door swung to reveal an alchemist.

He adjusted his glasses, his lens magnified. He carefully studied the woman before him, then lifted an eyebrow. "Ivy?"

"Yes! Yes, it is me!" I grinned.

His eyes lit up. He lunged forward to pull me in a tight embrace. "It has been such a long time! You're a grown woman now." Laughter echoed from him.

"I miss you too, Woods."

Charlie Woods was the man who owned the cottage. An alchemist who started out aspiring by poring over textbooks with ingredients, and information written on it. I breathed in the familiar scent that hung around him like perfume.

His father, Hugo, was a close intimate of Aunt Genevieve. Having been the son of a former alchemist, Charlie had the same passion as his father.

"I see that nothing has changed," I commented on his interior.

"There were a few changes, here and there." He turned around, and leaned back with extending bent arms on the counter. His black hair, as I had described, was tousled and curly. There was a tinge of blush across his cheeks. The distinct facial feature I always recalled were the bewitching constellations of freckles on his face.

He took off his glasses.

"How have you been?" He asked, his eyes rested on me.

I shrugged. "Better?" I chuckled.

"I've always wanted to tell you something," He said. There was a hint of hesitation in him. "But I can't seem to remember."

Whether that was a lie or not, there was a tugging in my gut about what he wanted to tell.

He noticed something in me when we were children, and didn't even bother sharing. Hmph!

I would never snap at Charlie though. He was the only friend I had. The sole regret was not communicating with him after his father passed away.

"I take that you came here because you wanted to see me, and that there's something else," He said. Charlie read my mind well.

"Don't disclose this to anyone yet but the Queen lied lifeless on the ground after drinking the wine," I said.

Charlie gasped, then whispered. "You think the wine has poison?"

"Yes. I went to you because their apothecary would think I'm suspicious. Also, I trust you and I know you're good at this." I smiled to encourage him. Then, I made a plea. "Please, Charlie. Help me out on this one."

He stood in silence, pondering, and gave me a grin. "Charlie Woodbury is up to the challenge." He opened his palm, and looked at me. "Can you hand over the wine sample?"

There was a chance he loved making eye contact. But I brushed away that chance or possibility. There was no way that Charlie was capable of causing my heart to flutter.

I muttered a response. "Of course, hang on." I told him to look away then I took the vial out.

He returned his stare, and lifted an eyebrow. "Why must I avert my eyes?"

"Because I hid it somewhere you shouldn't see," I said.

With the vial in my grip, I gave it to Charlie for him to examine. He held the vial with two fingers, angling it while his eyes fixated on the liquid. Then he remarked. "This looks Normal. I'm going to process which may take a few days."

"A few days?" I stared in shock.

"You heard right. One time a customer rushed me in formulating a medicine for her ailing son. In result, the son had a wonderfully explosive time in the toilet," He said sarcastically.

"I know it needs a few days. I'll take it as an opportunity to visit this cottage more often," I smiled.

"Well, why don't we see each other everyday instead?" A charming smile split across his face. The sweet honey timbre from his moving lips.

"You know what? It's a deal. From now on, we'll see each other like we used to," I offered my hand for him to shake. He eagerly did.

* * *

The morning after.

Vapor diffused from Aunt Genevieve's cigarette, claiming the air of the living room as its own. These lungs of mine had to deal with welcoming the smoke in because I didn't want to hold my breath, or gallivant across the manor for another space.

Her face was hiding behind the newspaper she held up. While she was reading the opposite side, my eyes espied the headline in an accentuated bold black.

REGICIDE IN HELMBURN, HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF?

Word spread quickly. With news about Queen Amice venturing the lands of Helmburn, I knew that journalists had began jumping into baseless theories, and nonsensical arguments.

History repeats itself? That was an interesting question, albeit out of focus from what was more important -- finding the killer. Perhaps it was someone wronged by Her Majesty. Many contemplative thoughts swayed around my head, but none deemed the truth.

They were merely fictitious thinking.

What I knew was that clues lied within the heart of the castle. The killer might had been plotting for a long time.

"It puts a smile on my face to know that children in the village are having a future with education with the help of our funding," I heard a smile in Aunt Genevieve's tone. Echoes of pride resonated through the room. "And who knew that Bailey was a con artist? I liked that guy."

"Bailey? Isn't he the man who brought priceless artifacts?" I lifted an eyebrow.

"Apparently, the market discovered that those artifacts were naught but man-made imitations. They weren't legitimate. Bailey tried to sell those to earn a lot." She clicked her tongue out of disappointment. "The attempted escape route was the southbound train."

"Is he arrested?" I asked.

"Well, he had been deported and can never come back. If he does, he'll face a serious payment." She sighed, and put down her newspaper.

There was a monotone ringing that drew our attention. Aunt Genevieve puts out her cigarette in a discreet manner.

"I'll get it," I informed Aunt Genevieve who nodded in reply.

I rose up and sauntered to the telephone to answer the call. There I listened to the crackle of the line, then a familiar voice came flooding in.

"Is this Ausleya Manor?" A question went into earshot.

"Indeed, it is. Lady Arabelle speaking," I said.

"You're the one who attended the dinner in place of Lady Rosalie?" The female voice asked.

"It is me. May I ask who this might be?"

In the other end of the line, there was another crackle before the voice returned. "Princess Salome. The sister of Her Majesty. I wanted to invite you over to the castle so we could have a discussion." She added. "No funny business."

"Of course, your Highness. I'll be there in a few," I told her.

"Good to hear. I'm expecting your arrival, Lady Arabelle," She said then her sound disappeared.

* * *

When I arrived, a castle servant instantly ushered me to a secluded room with Princess Salome. Her tall figure stood by the window streaming with sunlight. Her arms were folded over her chest, and when my footsteps carried over to the room, she turned around to look at me.

"The morning has a knack of glaring when it awakens," Princess Salome spoke as she sauntered across the room in slow steps towards me. There was a glint of suspicion in her eyes when I observed them.

"Poetic," I commented while collecting myself in front of her.

"Just like my sister. She had a mission as bright as day. To bring change upon the kingdom," She said, her voice bleeding morose. "Unfortunately, that change can't be seen."

"I am utterly sorry for your loss, and for the kingdom." I said. I flinched when I read my words in my head, believing that it sounded wrong. I didn't want to elicit ire from her.

There was an incessant rhythm in my chest, thwacking. Perhaps Princess Salome thought that I had killed the Queen, when in fact, I had not.

"What's your motive, Lady Arabelle?" She narrowed her eyes.

"M-motive?" I stuttered.

"You came in the room with the chalice of wine in your hand. The same wine that killed my sister." She said as she encircled me like a vulture. Her voice bled with fury, and sadness, and a mix of emotions I could not comprehend. I was a fragile prey waiting to be bitten.

"I came because I had to step out of my comfort zone. I have, and never, assassinated the Queen." I told her.

Her gaze was laced with venom. "I suppose you're innocent, for now." She tilted her head up, and exuded a sigh. "Queen Amice became queen after Queen Victoria's execution."

"I was told of a tale about it once." I said shyly.

"What did they tell you?" She arched an eyebrow.

"Your mother killed the King out of the need to overthrow him, after having been shadowed by his commanding nature." I answered.

"There's more to that story I believe. But I haven't uncovered it fully as I was in India with my grandmother at that time," She replied.

"I surmise your mother snapped, your Highness. Did she send you away to India?"

There was a look clutching the face of Princess Salome, something of disbelief. "She suggested I go there to take a break from regal life because she witnessed my rebellion."

"Rebellion. I take that you escape the castle every night?" It was a guess.

"Exactly. I don't want to be here. There's so much energy that I despise," She said. "But I can't go since I'm the only one left in this damned bloodline."

Princess Salome was to be the Crown Heiress. I couldn't blame her for not wanting the throne, seeing that being Helmburn's monarch came with responsibilities.

"You are a Royal, and have lived a life as one. I haven't," I told her.

Realization struck me in recall. I was inside the castle, meaning I'd be able to gather more clues that may hopefully break through the shroud of mistery around Her Majesty's assassination.

"I suppose I'll be burdened. In which I already am," said Princess Salome in a sullen timbre. "The butler, Arnold, always prepares for the Queen. I wonder where he went off to during that night."

I recalled the man I had bumped into in the kitchen that night. He was in a rush.

"Do you know where this man lives?"

She scoffs. "As if I pay mind to the lackeys? No, I don't."

I was about to blurt out a phrase, but managed to hinder my mouth from doing so. A familiar voice crawled to the room, that tune reverberating.

When I flitted my gaze to the man approaching, I was surprised to see him.

"Lady Arabelle?" A look of surprise claimed Lord Adrian.

"My Lord, it is an honor to meet you again, albeit the circumstance," I greeted, which was followed with a terse bow.

"-have contacted the cleric to lead the rites of sepulture," in came Sir Quint. He halted in his tracks when he saw me. "My Lady, I'm graced by your presence."

"So do I," I said.

Despite the welcoming appearance of Lord Adrian, I needed to set my priorities on the clues, preferably Queen Amice's bedchamber. The problem was that I had no idea where it was.

Lord Adrian smiled, before looking to Princess Salome with a question weighing on his mind. "May I ask where Her Majesty's bedchamber is?"

Out of convenience, this man became the solution.

Princess Salome instructs directions to him, "By the vestibule, take the stairway. Go down a hallway, then make a left."

A wave of relief washed over as I heard the information. I was familiar with the vestibule, according to the sketching in that book I found in Aunt Genevieve's study. Smudge of trace, and lines floated before my vision. I mentally recalled the image of that room. Finding the clues meant I had to do it alone, without any prying eyes.

Called to mind, I recollected information about the vestibule. It was a chamber in the castle that stored artifacts from the previous generation of Royal reign, as well as a room for axes, knives, and armors.

Lord Adrian gave me a knowing look before he proceeded to the Queen's bedchamber.

"I pray their investigation foils the killer without secrecy in them," said the Princess, whose tone bled of the yearn that the assassin be thwarted.

"Whoever the killer is, I'm certain they have motives. But we're not sure what specifically," I told her.

Time was running, and I had to solve this deadly mystery in time.

* * *

When I felt that the Queen's bedroom was cleared, I took myself there with stealthy footsteps. By the vestibule, take the stairway.

There was a spiraling staircase that led upwards. With a start, I went upwards into ascension until I met a hallway. Take a left. Memory whispered to my ear.

Luckily, there were no guards around. I wondered why.

To the right, was a hall that I was certain, twisted toward the foyer. To the left, there was a door. This must be it. My hand reached for the doorknob, shaking. Perhaps it was what lied beyond these doors that made a slow fear creep up in me.

There was that dreadful din of the humming door as it swung open.

Inside, the room was kempt. There was no horrifying picture of spilled blood, or death. It was haunting, to gaze at her sheets where she used to sleep. I wouldn't want to hear my own death bell, knowing that I'd be delivered either to heaven or hell. The moment it chimed, would be a signal that it was indeed, the end of your time.

After minutes of rummaging through the room, I wound up with a leather-bound book in my hand which felt like an item crafted in the older years. I opened it, turning the pages, breathing in the smell of ancient paper. I saw the front page with splashes of ink that mentioned the full name of Queen Amice.

Property of Amice Heil Ashworthe

There were pages filled with admirable calligraphy penned from the glorious hand of Her Majesty. It was truly unfortunate to lose a good monarch.

Dear diary,

It's 9th of August, 1854

Mother gave Salome, and I a strict lecture on regal conduct. After this, Salome hurried to her room in tears. I pity her.

There was a distinct favoritism in this castle, and I'm not proud to say that I'm the center of our parent's lives.

There was another entry that I couldn't resist reading.

Dear diary,

25th of June, 1855

Salome ran off and tried to escape. When she was found, mother suggested to put her in the dungeon in order for her to learn obedience.

This was a rather cruel act, to put her in a cell, in a room full of traitors and criminals with violent innate desires.

One night, I went to visit her and attempt to get her free, but Salome told me not to. It would involve more punishment.

In another page, I skimmed the writings. It was about Queen Victoria and King Demetri.

Dear diary,

It's 1856. I fear for my life as I am alone without a sister. Salome has been sent to India for timeout. Her past behavior has been a stark contrast to how a Royal must act. Although, I don't blame Salome for feeling that way.

I want to make change upon the kingdom.

Days after, I continue this entry to bear shocking news. My father was found dead in his study. The inspector noticed  a mark on his skin, something that been pierced.

It turned to a week of whirlwind changes with mother accused of killing our father.

Salome had returned from India, after the execution of Queen Victoria.

I was the eldest, and I had to replace her on the throne. The Parliament would most likely search for a kingdom with an appropriate suitor, but I didn't want marriage. I wanted  change upon the kingdom, and I had the opportunity.

I shut the diary in my hand, and realized that I had been holding my breath from reading. I had taken a lot of time already, and had to leave the castle. Otherwise, when guards discovered that I went into Her Majesty's room, it would contour suspicions.

* * *

"Ara, why don't you try this soup I made? It's corn," Rosalie nudged. She showed me a steaming bowl of stew with a smile on her face. "You like corn."

A grin went to my face. "You're far too thoughtful. I'm blessed," I chuckled.

"Hm, there's something slightly different about you..." She said, her eyes narrowing.

In that moment, my chest tightened. I swallowed the growing lump in my throat, and mustered enough strength to level her gaze with mine.

"W-what do you mean?" I stammered.

Her eyes narrowed to slits. Suddenly, she rose up to her feet. "Are you seeing a handsome man?" She teased. "If so, I have tips for my lovely cousin."

I glanced at the clock with a sigh, already knowing the hour. "It's not that. I'm worried about Aunt Genevieve. She has yet to return, and it's almost midnight."

"I know. I'm worried too but I'm shaking off that feeling with... soup." She replied.

"Am I being extremely uptight?" I asked her.

Rosalie furrowed her eyebrows, then walked around the table until she was behind my back. She pressed her palms down on my shoulder. "Ara, listen to me. It's alright to be concerned. It shows that you're not careless about family."

"There are times I think to myself. Am I annoying the both of you? I feel like a parasite siphoning from you two. I have no parents anymore, and I get to have a place in this manor," I said on the verge of tears. My voice shook as I continued. "Am I even worth it?"

Rosalie held my hands in comfort, her voice coming out like a soothing lullaby. "You don't annoy us, Ara. We're glad to have you here. I'm glad to have you here because without you, I wouldn't have anybody else in this manor which would be boring, don't you think?"

I nodded.

"And don't ever call yourself a parasite. You're not. One day, you'll see your worth and fully embrace yourself for who you are. Nobody is going to take that away from you." Her words lifted me up.

I held onto her with a smile. "Thank you, Rose. You've always been there for me. Encouraging. Pushy, in a good way. Because of you, I feel better."

"Family sticks together. I'll stay by your side until the end," She said, then pulled me into a long embrace.

It felt warm to my heart, to have somebody who cared. Somebody to hold on to. Rosalie was and will always be my family.

Our touch severed when the door opened. Aunt Genevieve sauntered into the room. "What did I miss?"

"Dinner," Rosalie responded.

"Alright now, since I'm here, I'll make it up to the both of you. How about a vacation trip to Eden soon?" Aunt Genevieve's lips danced with a smile.

"That would be wonderful," I commented.

Aunt Genevieve tilted her head with a partial nod. "I'll be in my study if you both need me." She retreated to another room in the manor, disappearing from sight.

* * *

There was a chiming telephone call, one for Rosalie. After she responded, she looked to me. "Governor Philipps calls for a meeting in the Halls of Westminster."

The Halls of Westminster was a gathering place for the Parliament. The Common Houses, and the Great Houses.  They would hold conferences. It could be about publishing a new law, or passing on proposals. It was headed by three representatives.

"I wonder what it would be about?"

"A normal meeting that surely wouldn't gloss over the Royals," replied Rosalie.

"It might be about the sepulture. I overheard Sir Quint saying that he contacted a cleric to lead the rites," I informed her. She bobbed her head with a silent thrum.

"Governor Philipps has taken interest in you as well which means that you are coming with me."