The moon was rising as Arista placed the dagger on her windowsill. While it would still be some time before the moon-beams would reach it, all the other preparations were ready. She had spent all day working on the spell. In the morning, she had gathered herbs from the kitchen and garden. To find a mandrake root of just the right size had required nearly two hours. The hardest step, however, had been slipping down to the mortuary to clip a lock of hair from her father’s head. By evening, she had been grinding the mixture with her mortar and pestle while she muttered the incantations needed to bind the elements. She had sprinkled the resulting finely ground powder on the stained blade and had recited the last words of the spell. All that was required now was the moonlight.
She jumped when a knock on her door startled her. “Your Highness? Arista?” the archduke called to her.
“What is it, Uncle?”
“Can I have a word with you, my dear?”
“Yes, just a minute.” Arista drew the curtain shut, hiding the blade on the sill. She placed her mortar and pestle in her trunk and locked it. Dusting off her hands, she checked her hair in the mirror. She went to the door, and with a tap of her necklace, she opened it.
The archduke entered, still dressed in his black doublet, his thumbs hooked casually in his sword belt. His heavy chain of office shimmered in the firelight from Arista’s hearth. He looked around her bedroom with a critical expression. “Your father never did approve of you living up here. He always wanted you down with the rest of the family. I actually think it hurt him a bit that you chose to separate yourself like this, but you have always been a solitary person, haven’t you?”
“Does this visit have a point?” she asked with irritation as she took a seat on her bed.
“You seem very curt with me lately, my dear. Have I done something to offend you? You are my niece, and you did just lose your father and possibly your brother. Is it so impossible to believe I’m concerned for your welfare? That I’m worried about your state of mind? People have been known to do … unexpected things in moments of grief—or anger.”
“My state of mind is fine.”
“Is it?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “You have spent most of the last few days in seclusion up here, which cannot be healthy for a young woman who has just lost her father. I would think you would want to be with your family.”
“I no longer have a family,” she said firmly.
“I am your family, Arista. I’m your uncle, but you don’t want to see that, do you? You want to see me as your enemy. Perhaps that’s how you deal with your grief. You spend all your time in this tower, and when you do step out of this stronghold of yours, it’s only to attack me for my attempts to find your brother. I don’t understand why. I have also asked myself why I’ve not seen you cry at the loss of your father. You two were quite close, weren’t you?”
Braga moved to the dresser with the swan mirror and paused as he stepped on something. He picked up a silver-handled brush lying on the floor. “This brush is from your father. I was with him when he bought this one. He refused to have a servant select it. He personally went to the shops in Dagastan to find just the right one. I honestly think it was the highlight of the trip for him. You should take more care with things of such importance.” He replaced it on the table with the other brushes.
He returned his attention to the princess. “Arista, I know you were afraid he was going to force you to marry some old, unpleasant king. I suspect the thought of being imprisoned within the invisible walls of marriage terrified you. But despite what you might have thought, he did love you. Why do you not cry for him?”
“I can assure you, Uncle, I’m perfectly fine. I’m just trying to keep busy.”
Braga continued to move around her small room, studying it in detail. “Well, that’s another thing,” he said to her. “You’re very busy, but you are not trying to find your father’s killer? I would be, if I were you.”
“Isn’t that your job?”
“It is. I have been working continuously without sleep for days, I assure you. Much of my focus, however, as you should know, has been on finding your brother in the hopes of saving his life. I hope you can understand my priorities. You, on the other hand, seem to do little despite being the acting queen, as you call yourself.”
“Did you come here to accuse me of being lazy?” Arista asked.
“Have you been lazy? I doubt it. I suspect you’ve been hard at work these last few days, perhaps weeks.”