2404 Xavem 17, Jyda

Nelnifa gripped the sheets of parchment her report was written in. It contained her findings from accompanying Morka to the baskets' drop-off point. Once she handed the report to the Potentate's office, it would be out of her hands. Technically, this lay in her mother's jurisdiction, but by the looks of it, she would have to escalate it to the Court eventually. Nelnifa might have been doing them the favor by saving them half the work.

Her sandals scratched against the manor's stone floor. A trail of sand and silt bled off in her wake, telling everyone passing her by where she had been and where she was heading. Thank the gods there wasn't any rug in here or that might have been a huge problem for the cleaners.

Tapestries depicting several scenes from mythology and even some from the island's history lined the walls and flanked Nelnifa's way. They hung from bars nailed near the ceiling and only stopped a few inches from the ground. Her eyes scanned ethereal faces carved into cloth using threads of different colors. She hasn't even realized Umtir was supposed to have hair as green as the weeds of the sea.

When she passed the familiar tapestry depicting how Pelrise Seros established the Barden Lighthouse, Nelnifa turned the corner opposite it, bringing her directly in front of the Potentate's office. A set of wooden doors carved with festoons and other plain geometric designs stood in her way. She was about to reach out and grasp the bar handles when they burst inward. The hinges whined softly in her ears. She raised her head from the handles and her gaze landed on the familiar face of a Marshal.

"Marshal Araxi," Nelnifa greeted, her tongue miraculously not tying itself into knots upon having been forced to meet a person's eyes. "Good morning."

The Marshal narrowed his dark eyes on her. "You shouldn't put your nose into things you do not understand," he said. Nelnifa raised an eyebrow. Well, that's an appropriate greeting, for sure. "What business have you with the Potentate?"

Nelnifa scoffed. "What is that to you, Marshal?" she said. Where in Umtir's generosity was she getting all this bravado? "As far as I am concerned, I'm never to disclose to anyone what my office is doing nor should you be sticking your nose into things you do not understand."

She pushed past him, making sure to flick her hair behind her shoulder more to get it out of the way than convey a statement. She looked back, noting how large the Marshal's footprints were, judging from the smudge of sand and silt he left against the floor. He was wearing boots, judging from the pronounced pattern of the imprinted sole. It wasn't characteristic of sandals and certainly not of bare feet.

She cursed as her mind stored the useless information for her to either recall or forget five minutes later.

Ilphas Araxi. He wasn't someone Nelnifa should be messing with, it seemed. While she was at it, perhaps she should ask her father or even Marshal Laie to conduct a background check on him. Then again, he might have been serving longer than Nelnifa had that his knowledge and instincts had been sharpened to a fault. He might know she was being suspicious of him.

Well, she was suspicious of everyone now. With her dealing with unknown forces taking control of the territory, she couldn't trust anyone. Not anymore. No one could know what she was looking for or even piece the final picture based on her actions. At least, that's the effect she was going for.

She blew a breath, striding towards the open space Marshal Araxi's departure had left. Beyond the doors sat her father's desk where she used to play on as a child. The silly memory brought a small smile to Nelnifa's lips but her amusement vanished just as quickly when another protruding thought interrupted it.

Her father was behind the desk, scribbling away on a sheet of parchment no doubt containing the recent reports from different offices. Nelnifa glanced at a stack of papers to her right, sitting next to a tall shelf filled to the brim with tomes, trinkets, and even some models of traps the fisherfolk used. Had the judicial office brought their mountains of cases for the Potentate to look into so early in the month, again?

"Oh, Nifa," the Potentate's voice sounded tired. She whirled to him to find him heaving a sigh and placing his quill down on its rest doubling as weight against the parchment. "Things good at the house?"

Nelnifa nodded, ducking her head and extending the report in front of her. "Yes, father," she said. "Varran and Dewyn are behaving so long as I bring them cloresh from Orayta."

The Potentate clicked his tongue. "You've been flushing them with too much sweets," he said. "I hear it's all they've been eating during dinner."

"I always make sure to tell Tamna to force them to eat a vial," she said. What kind of a sister was she if she let her brothers skip on a fairy potion—the most important meal of their day? "They seemed fine. Besides, it's just cloresh. It has its benefits too."

"Yes, like making sure our boys stay up all night on some sort of a rush," the Potentate said.

Nelnifa chuckled. "You make me sound like a bad person, father."

The Potentate sniffed and scratched his nose. A smudge of ink was left in it and Nelnifa didn't have the heart to point it out. "Where are you headed next?" he asked. "Any updates I should know about where you'll be?"

"I'll be asking one of our cousins to accompany me later to Orayta," she said, thinking about that step just now. If Ilphas was somehow after her, at least having company would help her feel safe. Besides, Weslee could fight. At least a little. Whatever. "I'll be asking their overseer to let me go with them to where they deliver their produce. I'm a little bit curious."

The Potentate went back to his work picking up the quill from where it sat. Dipping it into a half-empty bottle of ink, he bobbed his head along what Nelnifa said. "As long as you go back home at the same time as you do, I'm fine with it," he said. "I don't like to hold you long. You can go. I'll look at your report later."

Nelnifa ducked her head again. "Of course, father."

She retreated out of the room, taking the same route she had taken on her way to her father's office. Before she reached the corridor that would take her out of the manor and into the open path leading her down the mountain and back home, she shifted to the opposite way, aiming for the court advisers' wing instead.

The hallways became wider and taller as she rounded the last corner. The walls had also opened up to a hidden courtyard in the middle of the estate, a single tree growing from a basin of fertile soil in the middle. The stone floor had never looked so striking with the sunlight from the outside shining down on it. Nelnifa's eyes widened. Was the roof...gone in this place? Whoa. Why hasn't she been here before?

She slapped both of her cheeks with her hands. Focus. Weslee Corledia's office. That's where he'd probably be if not the common pantry near the kitchens. It was his habit to snack in between his shifts at work and sometimes those snack breaks take hours and hours. It's a miracle he even gets things done with his lifestyle.

Then, before she could step out into the undeterred sunlight, the manor shook with a loud explosion, the booming sound striking Nelnifa's ears even if it's from some distance away. She flinched, her arms flying to her head even though the sky remained clear of debris or any kind of proof the explosion happened. Her heart leaped to her throat. What was that?

She lowered her arms. The courtyard was untouched. For now, at least. Whoever it was, they had the nerve to attack the official manor where the Potentate was. It was an attack against Desara, itself. Could it be the freedom movement? Hadn't Nelnifa told Ketha to stall the protests? Had the Corledia family become an enemy of the people?

Her legs moved on their own accord. Soon, she tore through the hallways, the tapestries, windows, and even the people whizzing past her in a haze of faces and colors. The smell of burning grass and rock hit her senses, causing her to screech into a halt and whirl around at her surroundings. Her eyes landed on a column of dark smoke rising from a part of the manor's walls, no doubt the upper floors. What in Umtir's name—

"Princess!" Marshal Laie's voice jarred Nelnifa away from investigating the fire. "What are you doing here?"

Nelnifa waved a hand at the scene. Thankfully, whatever spell it was, it was done against the outside wall. Small pockets of fire burned on nearby trees and licked the low-lying bushes surrounding the spot. Had it happened inside...

The people with her had only registered then. Cleaners, some of the advisers from the Corledia clan, and armored soldiers flocked around the manor's only entry and exit point, elbowing each other to get a glimpse of what happened. Nelnifa danced away from Marshal Laie's grip as the soldier swam through the sea of form. She stepped outside, where the burning smell had never been stronger.

"Princess, get back here!" Master Laie broke through the crowd and strode towards her. "Get back inside and don't go out until we say everything's clear!" She turned to the other soldiers staring slack-jawed at the commotion. "Don't just stand there! Secure the Potentate and the Advisers!"

Nelnifa gritted her teeth and craned her neck to the upper floors. Whatever it was that hit the walls, it tore through the bricks and continued burning inside whatever room it fell through. From the hole, Nelnifa could already see a flurry of movements as well as tons of rustling clothes. With her eyes, she followed the trajectory of the projectile used and stopped on a particular spot a few distances from the palace.

She was about to take the same path when a heavy hand clamped over her shoulder. "Come on, Princess," Marshal Laie's voice sounded stern now. "Don't make me drag you to where we could guarantee your safety."

Nelnifa pursed her lips. "I'm fine, Mashal," she said. "We should look for the culprit—"

"We're already on it," the Marshal said. "Right now, we need you out of harm's way."

Nelnifa attempted to walk forward but strong arms grabbed her by the waist. Her world spun and tumbled as Master Laie slung Nelnifa along her shoulder like a sack of seashells. "Hey, put me down!" Nelnifa slammed her hand against the back of Laie's breastplate but it did nothing than make her hand hurt. "I can walk!"

"You most certainly won't go in the direction I tell you to," the Marshal answered nonchalantly, as if she was talking to a flower-child rather than the daughter of the Potentate. Then again, she was also carrying Nelnifa over her shoulders.

Nelnifa growled and squirmed, flailing her legs to at least loosen Laie's hold on her. Then, as they walked, something familiar whizzed by her periphery. A footprint against the silt. A familiar pattern of a sole. Oh, no.

"Laie," she said in an urgent tone despite the twists in her gut. "Where's Ilphas?"

The Marshal raised an eyebrow. "Haven't seen him since morning," she said. "Hasn't dropped by the office either. Why?"

Nelnifa eyed the footprints again. They led out of the palace and disappeared into the thick forest surrounding the mountain the manor was built upon. "Find Ilphas Araxi," she said. "Now."