"A Memor never sleeps."
— Prince Aldric III of House Memor
~•~

The silence was the herald that something had gone awry.

It was not the clash of metals, or the thud of footsteps as the guards clashed against the traitors. Nor the guttural screams of the princess consort that would soon resound as the traitors carved out her unborn brother from their mother's womb. His life was snuffed out even before it could begin. Her father's pleas too would go unheard by her, lost in the space between waking and sleeping. No, it was the silence. The oppressive quiet that settled around her like a fur cloak, its grip like a vise around her slender throat. That was what told her that the world, as she knew, had crumbled while she slept, dreaming of succulent cakes with dripping honey.

She would open her eyes to the sunlight, its rich hues setting her bedchamber on fire. Despite it being the middle of winter, she was sweating. She would call for her parents only for the silence to greet her. By the time she dared to step on the cool marble of the floor, her thin shift would be wet with sweat. The next few moments were a blur of actions, moving images that made little sense even after all these years, as her father would rush into her chambers and whisk her away to the gardens. Yet as the Maiden would have it, he tripped.

"No, baba!"

Maysa Memor sat up with a start, gasping for sweet breath. Yet another nightmare of that blasted morning. The silken bed sheets were tangled underneath her body and, just as in the dream, beads of sweat decorated her brow like a wreath of the clear crystals for which Domhnall was so famous for. A gentle sigh escaped through her parched lips. It has been five years. Far too long for her to be having these dreams. She was no longer a maid of sixteen. She was twenty-one summers old. If only her mind understood that.

But the past is resilient. It seeps in through the cracks and crevices of the memory, like a haint that refuses to give up on life. The things she would do to forget her past!

Dawn had not quite touched the Domhnall. The skies were still a light cerulean, with streaks of grey and silver. A crescent moon as white as a wolf's canine glinted amidst stray clouds. Warm, sultry breeze caressed the silken curtains of Maysa's bedchamber before tracing invisible patterns on her dark skin. It was gentle as a lover's touch ought to be. The hour was serene, the hustles of the day yet to begin. Might as well make the most of it. A bemused smile emerged on the princess' lips.

Maysa sat huddled on the bed for a few moments. Then she stretched her arms and slipped on to her sandals, which were beneath the plush bed. She walked over to the washbasin to her right and splashed water on her face before wiping it off with the sleeve of her shift. With a practised precision, she got rid of her shift and donned a tangerine dress that ended right above her knees. It cinched around her waist, accentuating the natural curves of her body without being too overt about it.

For the last scion of the House Memor, it was not unusual for her to be awake before the sun. Maysa found it difficult to be in bed for a long time at any hour of the day, if she were to be honest. She knew that the lords of Namiona laughed behind her backs about this habit, attributing it to be one of her ploys to stand out to show how much better she was than the. A desperate desire to be different.

They selectively forgot that it might be something deeper, given that on that one day Maysa had slept late, her entire family was slaughtered and she too had almost died.

A sharp rap on the closed doors of her chamber stirred her out of the voluntary reverie. Who could it be? She wondered, tilting her head toward the door and saying,

"Enter."

With a small thud, the door opened to reveal a man adorned in the full armour of a knight save for the helmet. He was Sir Airon, her chief advisor. He wore a face that was wrinkled with eyebrows that were small bushes and had a mind of their own, often crinkling according to the whims of its owner.

Alongside Domhnall and the diadem which marked her as its ruling princess, she had also inherited Airon from her father. No one knew how old the grizzled knight was; Maysa’s father said that he had known Airon ever since the times of his grandsire. There was no need to be aware of his age, either. It was loyalty that mattered, and old Airon was loyal to a fault. The younger guards and knights, however, often jested amongst themselves, saying that Airon was an immortal.

"My princess, good morrow." The knight's thin lips were drawn into a straight line as he bowed in greeting.

"Good morrow, Sir Airon," Maysa greeted back. "What brings you to my chambers so early in the day?"

"I must first beg pardon for disrupting your sleep, your serenity,” he replied. "Yet this news could not be kept contained for later. It is dire, to say the least."

Maysa turned around to face the knight. The luscious waves of dark hair danced around her shoulder, while those almond-shaped brown eyes widened in focus. The faint light of dawn made her eyes glisten, highlighting the lovely shade that was not quite brown or amber, but something in between the two. Like honey dripping down a wooden ladle, or that of a coin when it catches the light of the midday sun. Although composed, there was a faint tremor in her voice. Dire was not a word she liked to hear from Airon's mouth for obvious reasons.

"What has happened?"

Airon took a deep breath. "Lady Lysa Trellis has gone missing."

"Missing?" Maysa raised a sculpted eyebrow. "How did that come to be? Was it…?" She trailed off, the dream that woke her playing in the back of her mind. I hope it is not something like that. She prayed, for it was a fate she wished not even upon her arch nemesis.

"No one knows how, your serenity. Her brother, Lord Janus, had found her gone from their home one morning. He has been relentless in his search and has abandoned sleep, yet they could not discover her whereabouts." Airon paused. "But that is not the only thing that is worrying."

"What else has happened?"

Airon cleared his throat. "Lady Lysa disappeared a week ago from today. And His Grace, the Crown Prince Remus—"

Maysa stepped closer to her advisor, frowning. "What about him?" A stark defensiveness came up in her gait, albeit without her knowledge, as it always did when the prince was being talked about.

"There are suspicions amongst the lords that the lady has not gone missing but has been abducted."

"Abducted? What nonsense! How can a lady be abducted from her stronghold without the knowledge of anyone?" Maysa shook her head. "But how does this involve the Crown Prince?" Her heart thumped against her chest, eager to escape its ivory cage. The answer was on the tip of her tongue.

"They believe it is Prince Remus who has abducted Lady Lysa." Airon dared not meet the gaze of his princess as a soft gasp escaped Maysa's lips.

She took a step backwards, propelled by the implications of these words. The crown prince, abducting a lady. That too an unmarried maiden like the Trellis girl. Of course she knew it was not possible, for the said prince slept three corridors away from her. But even the idea that such a suspicion was spreading amongst the noble lords of Namiona was enough to make her worry. Given the recent state of affairs with the King, the father of the prince, this was not good news.

"When and how did you get to know this, Airon?" She asked. "Who has been spreading such slander?"

"Lord Trellis has been sending doves, your serenity. Ours reached today." Airon answered. "It got delayed because of a sudden blizzard in Wælgarth."

"He stated he suspects Prince Remus of such a heinous act?" Maysa bit the inner walls of her cheek. "If I know him well, he is not someone who would make such accusations against anybody, let alone the crown prince."

"No, your serenity. That I got to learn from one of our inspectors at the harbour," Airon said. "a merchant from the East, who has been gossiping about it. Says Lord Edmund Eni, to whom Lady Lysa was betrothed, has been making such claims."

Of course, that brainless oaf did it. Maysa gritted her teeth. She balled her hands into fists with such force that her knuckles turned white. Her hands had grown clammy, as it often did in moments of worry or agitation. It was no wonder that Maysa detested the brute hulk of a man that Lord Eni was. That one was a troublemaker who could not walk into a tavern without starting a brawl. However, his house was one of the most influential in the realm, and thus could not be ignored.

This sure was no mere brawl, and neither was Namiona a tavern, although sometimes Maysa begged to differ about the latter.

"Is Prince Remus still in his chamber?" Maysa asked after a prolonged moment of silence. "I need to speak with him."

Airon nodded. "Yes, your serenity. The prince is yet to leave his chambers."

"Good."

With that, Maysa walked past Airon and into the still dark corridors of the palace. Three flickering braziers lit her path as the world around her still slept. Yet sleep was the last thing on Maysa Memor’s mind. Deep in her heart, she could feel it:

This was just the calm before the storm.

~•~