Roland was in a torrent of rage as he slammed the door open to Vale’s study. He marched across the room until he was but a few inches from the man’s face.

“Where have they gone?” he barked, yet Vale merely stood unblinking. “You know more than you let on, old man. You know what Gabrielle intends to do with him, don’t you? You may even be the master behind whatever scheme she’s carrying out!”

Vale was stern and unflinching. “I know no more than you suspect, Master Roland. And even so, the cards are too vaguely drawn for anyone to know precisely anything at this point.” He stared back, the faintest trace of a smirk playing on his face.

“Enough of your games!” Roland shouted, sweeping violently the various pages and instruments from Vale’s desk. He grabbed Vale by the throat and held him, staring him dead in the face. Something had changed in him since, or perhaps because of, his early return to the castle. There was so little of the prince he had once been, and nothing at all of the boy in the dungeon.