I only have to wait a few minutes before Mortimer and Kassia appear at the end of the hallway, moving at a good pace despite Mortimer's old age. He doesn't look remotely surprised to see me hanging out of Willow's door. 

I quickly explain the situation to him, skipping over the pleasantries. His expression, to my immense irritation, doesn't change once as I tell him what Willow had said was happening to her.

"When I threw the door open last night and ran into her room," Kassia chimes in once I'm finished. "She was screaming, body arching off the bed so high I thought her spine would snap. There was a dark sort of... fuzz around her. Then she just stopped and went limp. I ran over and she had a pulse, but her chest was barely moving. I stepped outside for just a second to call for one of the other guards to run and fetch the physician and when I turned around, she'd locked the door." 

Kassia looks quite embarrassed about being locked out, like we are going to question her abilities as a proper guard.

"She told me through the door that she was fine but wanted to be left alone and I'm in no position to question my future queen so I did as she said." She waves a hand impatiently at my startled look. "Yes, I know who she is."

"Well my dear," Mortimer says, rubbing his brow thoughtfully."I have a few things in mind that may help her. But I need to see her first to be sure."

I lead him and Kassia through the now well lit rooms. Willow is still laying in bed where I left her, but she's no longer muttering to herself.

"By the gods!" Kassia exclaims upon seeing Willow's eyes and Mortimer let out a foul curse that I'm amazed he even knows. Hearing it described is one thing, but actually seeing it, it chills you to the core. I imagine Baeyr, the Gatekeeper to the afterlife, has eyes similar to Willows; black as the deepest of nights and devoid of any spark or light. They are eyes that only belonged to a god or demon.

"There, there. It's really not that bad," Mortimer says, patting Willow on the hand tentatively after visibly composing himself. 

He asks her a few questions about how she's feeling then leaves to grab a few supplies, promising to only be a minute. 

When he leaves, Kassia gets down on her knees by Willow's bed, bowing until her forehead rests against the edge. "I'm so sorry I've failed you, my lady."

"Don't talk like that. You may be the only guard I've ever had but I swear, you're the best." Willow smiles weakly at her.

Kassia laughs huskily. "I swear I'll do my best to find this demon that's plaguing you and slice its head from its body."

"Seeing as it's incorporeal, that may prove to be even a challenge for you." 

Their banter is familiar and I feel almost like an intruder looking in on something private. I can see the fragile newness of their relationship but the genuine goodness of it as well. I feel renewed respect for Kassia and I'm happy Willow has a friend here, even if I'm jealous that it isn't me. 

This is the first friend Willow has ever had. 

A knock sounds through the rooms and I gesture as Kassia to stay put. 

I'm expecting to see Mortimer, but instead I open the door to a handsome blonde man holding a tray of tea. He appears to be in his mid twenties, with a square jaw and broad shoulders. He looks vaguely familiar.

"Oh, hello." He's just as surprised to see me as I am him. "You're not Willow."

"No I'm not. She's currently indisposed. Is there something I can help you with?"

His smile shows off perfectly straight white teeth and oozes easy charm. "Will you just let her know that Darius stopped by for our nightly tea and card game and I was devastated to hear she's not feeling well?" 

Before I can answer, he tilts his head in a shallow bow then takes off down the hallway.

Darius? I know I've heard that name before but I can't remember where. More importantly, did he say nightly tea and cards? What is Willow doing, letting a man in her rooms every night? Father would die if he knew.

I head back to Willow's bedroom, deciding now isn't the time to get into it. I can scold her once she's feeling better. 

"Was that Darius?" Willow squeaks the second I walk into the room, radiating suppressed excitement.

Actually, now is the perfect time. 

"Yes it was." I cross my arms, channeling my inner Father. "And would you like to tell me what this Darius, who is disturbingly older than you by the way, is doing coming to your rooms ever night?"

"He's just a friend. He's teaching me to play cards. And he's not that old! He's only twenty four."

"Twenty four?!" I sputter. "Gods Willow, that's nearly ten years old than you."

"Discussing the prince, I see." Mortimer says from behind me, making me jump. I didn't even hear him sneak in, the old bat.

"Prince? Oh, this could not get any better!" My head might actually explode.

"It could if you knew about his reputation with the ladies," Mortimer mutters.

"And by reputation, he means that Prince Darius likes to find new card partners rather often, if you know what I mean," Kassia adds, throwing me a wink.

I turn to Willow, ready to beat her over the head with the nearest object until she realizes how stupid she's being. 

Mortimer steps in and pushes me out of the bedroom, surprisingly strong for a withered old man. Kassia stumbles out after me.

"The last thing we need is for Willow to get more aggravated than she already is. You two can stay out here until I'm finished." Mortimer is stern and I'm tempted to remind him about his own snide comment. 

But he's right, me yelling at Willow isn't going to help this situation any. That can come later, when she's better and can fully appreciate the extent of my anger.

"Are you going to be able to help her?" I ask.

"I believe so. I have some of Melora's Tears." He pulls a bundle of bell-shaped purple flowers from his bag. "They're burned and the smoke is inhaled, bringing peace of mind and banishment of inner demons. I'm going to lull her into a sort of deep trance so her mind can fight back and protect the body, hopefully driving out whatever force has its hold on her."

Burning flowers and meditating doesn't sound like the solution I was hoping for, but Mortimer seems to know what he's doing. He closes the door firmly behind him so I make my way to the sitting room to join Kassia on the sofa.

Getting a chance to look around now, I can see that Willow's rooms are lavish, even for a castle. There's a crystal vase on the side table that I'm fairly certain is worth more than my life.

I don't know how long we sit in silence for but exhaustion weighd heavily on my shoulders and begs me to curl up on the sofa for a nap. I think more about Willow and my mind pulls me to the moment that Maddox shoved me off the dock; to when I'd looked back for a second and his eyes were black. 

It feels like too much of a coincidence but I can't imagine Maddox having anything to do with this since he's just a simple recruit. The dots just aren't connecting. 

Finally, Mortimer emerges from the bedroom. "She's resting," he says, as I start to get to my feet. "She'll probably be out all night so we won't know of any change until morning. I'll have a messenger send you the news as soon as I know."

How am I supposed to just sit around and wait while Willow fights to free herself. Tonight will be the worst kind of torture.

Kassia locks Willow's rooms behind us, then takes up her post against the far wall.

"Shall I walk you out my dear, so you don't get lost in this infernal maze of a castle?" Mortimer offers me his arm.

"Actually I was wondering if we could go somewhere to talk first? I have a few questions I'm hoping you can answer."

"Of course," he says, steering me down the hall. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you."

He doesn't say it like it's a good thing.

_________

The library is one of the most beautiful places I've ever been. It's two levels, every wall I can see lined with huge, dark wooden bookshelves. Tables and sofas are placed around the center of the room, overlooked by balconies. And between the bookshelves on the second level, are intricate stained glass windows. I feel some of the weight lift off of my chest from just the sheer beauty and splendor of what I'm seeing.

Mother had always loved to read, often sitting out in the sun with a book in hand. 

"Books are such wonders because they allow me to temporarily leave this world and go on a magnificent adventure," she told me once. "But unlike the heroes of the story, I can always return back to those I love most. They give me a chance to experience the life I always wished I'd had and return to the one I'd never give up for anything."

It's the one thing I have left that I can vividly remember about her. 

"I can tell from the expression on your face that you're an admirer of the literary arts," Mortimer says approvingly, breaking me from my thoughts.

"I found reading to be one of the few consistent joys growing up. My love of books is only thing I inherited from my mother, besides her stubbornness. Or so my father likes to tell me."

"Of course. It's such a relief to finally know who I can finally thank for that." I consider correcting him, telling him that she's dead, but I get the feeling he already knows from the gentle smile he gives me.

We settle on the nearest sofa and I tear my eyes away from the walls, determined to pay attention no matter how tempted I am to get up and see what wonders the bookshelves hold.

I force myself to concentrate. "I wanted to ask if you had any idea what this force attacking Willow is. She seems certain that it's not the necromancer but I'm not convinced."

He nods thoughtfully, gray eyebrows furrowed. "Considering that we know essentially nothing about the necromancer or his power, I wouldn't write him off so easily. For all we know, he could be infiltrating these walls and attacking Willow's vulnerable mind."

"So if we assume that it is the necromancer, do we have any way to stop him? Surely there must be something in all of these books."

"Have you ever read any of the legends about the gods?"

"No. We aren't a particularly devout family and didn't have any books like that." I resist the urge to send a silent apology to the gods.

"All things considered, it might be a good idea to start reading some. I'll find you a book later." He closes his eyes, thinking for a second. "There is one particular story of Melora fighting off, what we believe is the first recorded necromancer. I believe the book says that it was a man who had given up his faith and turned to the whispers of creatures from in-between worlds, where even the gods dare not go. They consumed his soul and in return, gave him powers darker than one could imagine. It seems similar to what we are dealing with now."

"Melora sure does seem to be showing up a lot." I comment, thinking out loud.

"Well, she was essentially created to fight the evil and darkness of this world. It's only fitting that her stories and acts should give us guidance now."

I nod. "So how did she defeat him? Did she smite him with some godly power that we have no access to?"

"Fortunately, no. Melora had on her a silver dagger that was gifted to her by one of the other gods. The necromancer thought he had won the fight and, cocky with the taste of victory, got close to the goddess. She plunged the dagger into his head and he died. The silver supposedly drove the demonic forces from his body then the blade killed the mortal vessel."

"Silver? I think I've only seen silver jewelry worn by royals, never a dagger."

Mortimer gives me a grin full of self satisfaction. "Luckily for you, the goddess has been my main focus of study over most of my life. Attempting to find her silver dagger has come up before and although I never did, I do have some lovely counterfeits in my position."

He rises and hurries off to a door I hadn't noticed, probably leading to an office of sorts. Sounds of rummaging and muffled cursing ensue, then abruptly cut off for long enough that I get concerned. Just as I'm about to go and check on him, he appears, carrying a bundle which he lays on the table and unrolls to reveal two rather dull and ordinary looking silver knives.

"How anti-climactic," I mutter, picking one up. It's small but heavier than I expect and when I test the edge against my finger, it's surprisingly sharp.

"You take one and I'll give the other to Kassia," Mortimer says, giving me a sheath for the knife in my hand.

"And we're sure that this will work?" I ask, tucking it away.

"Not at all," Mortimer says cheerfully. "But considering we have nothing else, I'm happy for anything at this point." 

I can't disagree.