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“I didn’t see a compartment,” Claude replied. “You’ve seen pitchers like these before?”

Dagmara spared a glance up at him, but decided not to answer that question. Was she going to admit she has used these pitchers before? Absolutely not.

“I understand,” Claude said, his voice low. “There is still a long way to go before you trust me.”

“I don’t know that I’ll ever fully trust you, Your Majesty,” Dagmara admitted.

Claude stopped in his tracks, grabbing her hand as he did. A chill ran through her at their contact.

“I didn’t kill my parents,” he whispered, but every word was filled with tension.

Dagmara didn’t believe him, but maybe this was her way in. “Then what happened?”

“I…,” he shut his eyes tightly. “I am not ready to relive that day.”

Pulling her hand free from his grip, Dagmara gave him a curt nod. “It’s fine to admit you don’t trust me either.”

His eyes fluttered open, and a flare ignited. “I neither trust you, nor like you.” He pushed his hand onto a mirror, revealing a door, and led Dagmara out into a courtyard. She would never have noticed a door was behind the floor-length mirror.

Before her, was an interior courtyard and a path extending to a greenhouse. On all sides were arched columns leading into other wings of the castle, as well as a second-story balcony wrapping around the courtyard’s edges. In front of Dagmara, was a sea-green pond bubbling with small fountains of water, and fuchsia flowers dotted the edges. In the center next to the greenhouse was a cherry-blossom tree, its pink buds in full bloom.

Two guards stood by the greenhouse entrance, and the king quickly ordered, “Leave us.” They obeyed, and within moments, Dagmara and Claude were the only two present.

She felt her breath catch in her throat. This could be where he killed her. She had her chance to escape, and she didn’t take it. What if he assumed she wasn’t Magdalena? Although how could he kill someone in a place this beautiful?

“You asked if this all was a trick,” Claude said, snapping her out of her scrambling thoughts, “and it is.”

A silver light shimmered at his fingertips, and his eyes were aglow with silver specks. Everything around her began to decay. The flowers on the cherry blossom tree crumpled into dried petals, and deadly weeds snaked up its trunk, suffocating the life from its branches. The pond dried up, and the lively green plants became a decrepit shadow of what they once were. All around, the courtyard displayed signs of erosion due to wind and rain, and instead was choked with debris.

Dagmara couldn’t help but gasp. She backed up, only feeling brittle grass crunch underneath her feet. “I…I don’t understand,” she stammered.

“Everything on the front lawn is a facade,” Claude stated. He spoke as though this was rehearsed. It was simply facts for him, nothing more. “This is what is real.”

She tried to take in the decay. It was hideous, and she felt sick to her stomach. A putrid smell of rotting plants filled her senses, making her gag. She covered her mouth, trying to hide her reaction from the king.

Everything that was glorious and beautiful about the palace…was a facade?

As she lowered her hand from her mouth, she looked at him. Truly looked at him. He was a few feet away, alone, in the center of a courtyard filled with decay.

“Why?” she whispered. “Why make such a false facade? People think you’re hoarding resources from your own citizens.”

“I’d rather them think me a monster than know the truth,” he stated. “If they saw our entire kingdom was in a famine, there would only be fear. We would be vulnerable. The other kingdoms would think we were weak. I’d rather have my people angry than afraid.”

Those words stuck Dagmara at her very core.

“This started after the death of my parents,” Claude admitted. “Almost as if the death of the guardians began to drain away the soul of the kingdom. Don’t you see, Princess? Your life is holding your whole kingdom together.”

Magda’s life. She was in more danger than Dagmara thought.

“But you’re here,” said Dagmara. “Why is your kingdom fading then?”

“I wasn’t a guardian when my parents were killed. I wasn’t crowned until years later,” he explained. “I don’t know how it works, but to the kingdom, the Guardians of the Mind may be dead. There were no guardians for years.”

And if Magda truly has Soul magic…there are no Life Guardians left either.

Dagmara felt her stomach drop. She had to get news of this to Queen Bernadette, fast. What if Azurem started to perish like Ilusauri?

With a wave of his hand, a silver glimmer shone through the courtyards. A metallic hue glistened in his eyes, and the courtyard came to life once more. Foliage grew from the dust, and the tree sprouted pink flowers.