Treason in the Castle in the Air

Roland swayed in time with the sweet, melodic music, but the balmy afternoon did nothing to quiet his swiftly-beating heart. He was very aware that there were things he had forgotten, but, oh – there were so many things he had finally remembered!

He could feel the royal blood pulsing through his veins, beating in his heart. He could feel the magic building up in his fingertips, incantations floating to his lips.

He could feel the power.

The courtyard, aflutter with swishing skirts of every imaginable color, seemed to be a live animal, breating in and out with song and dance.

The party, the music, the dancing – all of it, for him. He was wearing the royal crest at his neck once again. And yet, his heart could not be still. His dark eyes darted from figure to dancing figure, his hand straying to the long, sharpened sword at his hip – the same sword his father, the king, had once used in battle.


Roland suddenly knew that he could not be found.

He could never be found.

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