Princess Of The Skulls - Chapter 9: Chapter 9

Dawn found me in the castle's highest tower, watching the sun paint the sky in shades of blood and gold while my mind churned through the revelations of the night. Seven participants for the ritual. Six allies I needed to find and trust with not just the truth, but with their lives.
The first was obvious: if I chose to trust him, Prince Aldric had already committed himself to the cause and possessed the magical knowledge necessary to understand what we were attempting. But the conversation with my mother's spirit had planted seeds of doubt about his ultimate loyalties.
The second was equally obvious and equally problematic—Master Dorian had been preparing me for this fight for years, but revealing the full scope of the conspiracy would require admitting that I'd been communing with the dead and gathering intelligence behind my father's back.
That thought brought me to the most difficult realization of all. If the cult's influence extended as far as
Prince Aldric claimed, then my father's enthusiastic support for this marriage took on a much darker significance. Either he was being manipulated by forces he didn't understand, or he was actively complicit in their plans.
The sound of footsteps on the tower stairs announced an arrival. I turned to find Captain Aldwin climbing toward me, his weathered face showing the strain of a sleepless night.
"Princess," he said, slightly breathless from the climb. "I've completed the security review you requested.
The results are concerning."
"Show me."
He spread a map of the castle on the tower's stone parapet, marking various locations with different colored pins. "Red pins indicate potential security breaches—places where an infiltrator could gain access without being detected. Yellow pins show positions where a small force could establish defensive positions. Blue pins mark areas where someone could observe courtyard activities without being seen."
The map looked like a tactical planning document for an assault rather than a security assessment. Too many vulnerabilities, too many opportunities for enemies to exploit.
"Your assessment?"
"If I were planning to attack this castle with a force of twenty-five men, I'd use exactly the approach Prince.
Aldric has taken—arrived with a credible story about external threats, gained access to the interior, and then struck when the defenders are focused on the wrong direction."
"And if you were planning to defend against such an attack?"
"I'd want every entrance monitored by men whose loyalty I could verify personally, and I'd want backup plans for evacuating key personnel if the main defenses failed." He paused, studying my expression.
"Should I be making such preparations, Princess?"
The question forced me to confront the scope of the decisions I was making. Was I preparing for a magical ritual to free trapped souls, or was I preparing for a battle that might tear the kingdom apart?
"Both," I said finally. Select twenty men whose loyalty to the crown is absolute and whose discretion can be trusted. Have them ready for special duties, but don't tell them what those duties might involve until I give the order."
"And the prince?"
"Maintain current security protocols, but be prepared to treat him as either an ally or enemy depending on how events develop." I rolled up the map, decision crystallizing in my mind. "Captain, I need to ask you a question that may sound treasonous."
His eyes sharpened, but he nodded for me to continue.
"If you discovered that the king had been deceived or manipulated into making decisions that threatened the kingdom's survival, what would your duty require?"
The question hung between us like a blade. I was asking him to consider the possibility that my father was either compromised or complicit in a conspiracy that threatened everything we'd sworn to protect.
"My oath is to defend the crown and the kingdom," he said carefully. "If those two loyalties ever came into conflict, I would have to choose the option that preserved the greater good."
"Even if it meant acting against the king's direct orders?"
"Even then." His voice carried the weight of a soldier who'd faced impossible choices before. "But
Princess, if you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting, you need to be very certain of your facts before you act."
"I'm working on that. But Captain—if the moment comes when I need those twenty men to choose between their loyalty to the king and their loyalty to the kingdom, will you stand with me?"
"I'll stand with justice, Princess. Wherever that leads."
It wasn't the unqualified support I'd hoped for, but it was more than I'd dared expect. Captain Aldwin was a man of principle, and principles could be both strength and weakness depending on the circumstances.
"Thank you for your honesty. Now, I need you to arrange a private meeting with Master Dorian. Tell him I require additional combat training to prepare for the wedding celebrations."
"And Prince Aldric?"
"Tell him I've reviewed his documents and would like to discuss implementation details. But Captain, that meeting will take place in the great hall, with full security protocols in place."
He nodded and departed, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the growing weight of leadership.
Every decision I made now would echo through dozens of lives, potentially hundreds if the ritual succeeded or failed catastrophically.
An hour later, Master Dorian arrived at the tower, his expression carefully neutral, but his eyes sharp with concern.
"You look like someone who's discovered that the world is more dangerous than she previously believed," he said without preamble.
"The world has always been dangerous. I'm simply seeing the dangers more clearly now." I gestured for him to join me at the parapet. "How long have you known about the cult?"
He didn't ask which cult I meant, which answered the question more clearly than words.
"I've suspected their existence for fifteen years. I've known about their specific plans for your betrothal for three years. I've been certain that you were their ultimate target for six months."
"And you didn't think to mention this?"
"What would you have done with the information? Run away? Refused the marriage and started a war?
Attempted to fight them alone and got yourself killed?" He shook his head grimly. "You needed to be strong enough to survive the revelation before I could risk sharing it."
"Am I strong enough now?"
"You're strong enough to fight. Whether you're strong enough to win remains to be seen." He moved to stand beside me, both of us looking out over the kingdom I might soon be responsible for saving or destroying. "What did you learn from your communion last night?"
I shouldn't have been surprised that he knew about my necromantic activities, but it still caught me off guard. "How long have you been aware of my abilities?"
"Since you were fourteen and accidentally raised the castle's entire population of deceased cats during a particularly emotional argument with your governess." His tone was dry, almost amused. "It took three days to convince them to return to their graves, and I had to modify the memories of half the staff."
"You can modify memories?"
"Among other skills, I've found useful over the years. But let's focus on what you learned from the dead."
I told him about the ritual, about the seven participants required, about the risks and potential outcomes.
His expression grew increasingly grim as I detailed the scope of what we were contemplating.
"Seven participants," he said when I finished. "Have you identified potential candidates?"
"You, if you're willing. Prince Aldric, if I decide to trust him completely. That leaves four more people who would need to be powerful enough to channel death energy, loyal enough to risk their lives for the cause, and trustworthy enough to hold the fate of kingdoms in their hands."
"A challenging recruitment process." He was quiet for a moment, clearly running through possibilities.
"What about Lady Lydia?"
"My former best friend, who's been increasingly distant and hostile since my betrothal was announced?
I'm not sure she meets the loyalty requirements."
"Distance and hostility can mask other emotions. Have you considered that her behavior might stem from fear rather than betrayal?"
I hadn't I'd been so focused on identifying enemies that I'd dismissed the possibility that some of the changes in people's behavior might be reactions to the same forces I was fighting.
"You think she knows something?"
"I think she's noticed things that frighten her, but she doesn't have the context to understand what those things mean. She might be more willing to help than you expect, especially if you can provide explanations for what she's observed."
"And the other three?"
"There are possibilities. The castle's head librarian has been researching protective magic for months, supposedly for academic purposes. One of the senior guards has been asking subtle questions about the Thornfield family's magical traditions. The kitchen master has been experimenting with herbs that have no culinary use but significant magical properties."
"You think they're all aware of the conspiracy?"
"I think they're all aware that something is wrong, and they're taking steps to prepare for trouble.
Whether that makes them potential allies or potential threats remains to be determined."
The idea that there might be others in the castle who were already preparing to fight the cult was both encouraging and terrifying. Encouraging because it meant I wasn't as alone as I'd believed. Terrifying because it meant the conspiracy was visible enough that multiple people had noticed it independently.
"How do we approach them?"
"Carefully. And not all at once. We identify the most trustworthy candidate and test their willingness to hear dangerous truths. If they prove reliable, we use them to help evaluate the others."
"And if they prove unreliable?"
"Then we ensure they can't betray us to the cult, by whatever means necessary." His tone was matter-of-fact, but the implication was clear. We were past the point where mercy could be afforded to potential enemies.
"I need to speak with Prince Aldric first. His cooperation is essential, regardless of how we proceed with the others."
"Are you planning to tell him about the seven-person ritual?"
"That depends on whether he can convince me that his loyalty extends beyond abstract justice to personal commitment." I picked up the Mourning Blade from where I'd left it leaning against the parapet.
"If he's willing to swear a blood oath to our cause, then I'll trust him with the truth. If not, then I'll proceed with the original plan he proposed."
"And if the original plan fails?"
"Then we'll all die, but hopefully we'll take enough of the cult with us to weaken their hold on other kingdoms." The words came out harsher than I'd intended, but they reflected the brutal calculus I was being forced to make.
"Princess," Master Dorian said quietly, "there's something else you need to consider. If we proceed with the seven-person ritual and it succeeds, you'll be the most powerful necromancer in recorded history.
That kind of power will attract attention from forces that make the current cult seem like a minor nuisance."
"What kind of forces?"
"The kind that exist in the spaces between life and death, feeding on the energy that flows between worlds. They've been dormant for centuries because no one has been powerful enough to wake them.
But a working of the scope you're contemplating ."
"Could serve as a beacon, drawing them to our world." I finished the thought, my heart sinking as I realized the implications. "So success might ultimately be worse than failure."
"Not worse. Different. Success gives us the power to fight whatever comes next. Failure gives us nothing but death."
"And the lives of everyone in the kingdom hang in the balance."
"They hang in the balance regardless of what we do. The cult's final working will proceed with or without our interference. The only question is whether it succeeds in enslaving your power to their cause, or whether we can turn that power against them."
I stared out over the kingdom, watching people go about their daily lives in blissful ignorance of the forces that threatened to reshape their world. In a few days, those people would either be free from a centuries-old conspiracy, or they would be dead because of my choices.
"Set up the meeting with Prince Aldric for this afternoon. And Master Dorian, begin evaluating the potential candidates we discussed. Carefully, but quickly. We have four days to assemble a team that can save the world."
"Or destroy it," he added grimly.
"Or destroy it," I agreed. "But sometimes destruction is the only path to redemption."
As he left to make the arrangements, I remained in the tower, watching the sun climb higher while I tried to prepare myself for the conversations ahead. Seven people to convince, trust, and prepare for the most dangerous magic in recorded history.
The game had moved beyond politics and personal revenge. Now we were playing for the fate of kingdoms, and the price of losing was too terrible to contemplate.