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“Enough. They lead to every royal suite, plus the kitchen and throne room. There’s even a passage that exits into the wine cellar. I will have the masons barricade the entrances to ensure they can’t be used again.”

“Is that wise? Sounds as if they might be useful, and now that we know of them, can’t they be monitored?”

Gustav didn’t scoff at her, but he did have a caution. “Keeping them open could be dangerous. They’re the reason why the killers could move through the palace unseen. How they managed to eliminate everyone and escape.”

“Hardly escape, since you killed them by the bridge.”

“Killed some. I don’t know if we got them all.”

Another reminder she might still be in danger. “I find it odd they chose to hit so close to dawn. Surely it would have made more sense to attack in the middle of the night.” Although, if they had, she might be dead.

“It is strange. I can only think they were delayed somehow and rather than wait until the following night, decided to act.”

“Speaking of the intruders, where is the one mother killed as well as those you and your men handled?”

“Currently piled in the bailey until we decide what to do with them.”

“We should search them for clues.”

“We?” He arched a brow. “The handling of corpses is an unseemly task for the queen.”

“And yet I still plan to do it.” Avera wanted to see them for herself. See if they were truly the extinct Verlorian.

“You won’t budge, will you?” Spoken with a forbearing tone.

“No.”

“Then at least let me have them removed somewhere private that you might not be observed.”

“Make it so.” She gave her first royal command.

Gustav stifled a smile and saluted. “Yes, my queen.” He signaled to a solider who came trotting. He gave his instructions before leading the way to the dungeon, a place she’d visited a few times because of her insatiable curiosity.

Unlike the stories that called them dark and dank places, their dungeon, embedded in the hill upon which sat the palace, had windows that overlooked the Lake of Tears and allowed in fresh air. The chambers had been carved out of stone and being above ground level, tended to be dry, not mildewy or damp. There was only one entrance, heavily guarded at all times even though they kept few prisoners. The former queen believed in swift justice.

Would Avera be as ruthless when it came to forcing people to obey the laws? Not a question she’d ever asked herself even as she knew the importance of upholding justice.

While waiting for the bodies to be brought, she stood at a barred window, eyeing the sloshing waves of the lake that abutted the stony outcrop holding the palace. The poisonous waters were undrinkable. The creatures that lived in it unpalatable. Only ships with metal-sheathed hulls could sail it as wood disintegrated quickly in its waters. Even metal erodedrapidly with exposure. It made the choice of locating the capital by its shore strange, especially since they had to dig numerous wells to supply the city and all food had to be brought in from outlying farms.

Given the age of the palace, predating even their oldest history book, she had to wonder if at one time the lake had been bountiful. If yes, then what caused it to change?

“My queen.” Gustav’s soft murmur jolted her from her thoughts on the lake and she turned to see the chamber now held corpses laid out in a row. They looked almost identical, given the assassins all wore dark hoods and clothing, except for one whose head was bare. They differed in size, some taller than others, but none of them were very thick, though. Given their athleticism, not surprising.

“Is this the one who killed her?” Avera asked, walking to the first body, the uncovered one.

“It is,” Gustav confirmed.

She crouched and eyed the dead man, studying his features. Dark-haired with a tawny complexion. “This assassin definitely appears to be of Verlorian origin. What of the rest?”

“Let’s see.” Gustav stripped the hoods and Avera held her tongue as they were revealed.

“This is a rather mixed band,” she announced, eyeing the different skin tones. The first had the swarthy coloring of a Verlorian, but the others ranged from straw-toned skinned with short, pure white hair, to porcelain-toned with dark locks, and shades in-between. “They don’t look like they belong to any single continent,” she murmured as she studied them.

“No, they don’t,” Gustav agreed. “They were most likely hired assassins.”

“Hired from where?” she asked glancing at him in surprise. “Daerva doesn’t have a guild of assassins.”

“No, but Saarpira does.”