Another Knock

Kisembo, king of Phileam, strolled over to the balcony, his bare feet padding softly off the lush carpet and onto the aged stone of his castle ledge. His guards had warned him that the open balcony, hundreds of feet in the air, posed a safety risk. He didn’t care. The solace the night air offered him these days was worth any risk. Kisembo was of the tall, well-built breed that the Phileam royal family prided itself in. He breathed in deeply through his wide chest, drinking in the cool, sea air.

It was undoubtedly past midnight now. But the nightmares . . . he hadn’t slept well since it had happened. He gazed out into the distance, his coarse hands gripping the railing to steady himself. The torches lighting up the city beyond the palace grounds were pinpricks of light against the horizon. Beyond his kingdom lay their enemies. The Lyard. Their kingdoms had been at war for a decade now. Still, that wasn’t what kept him up.

There was a knock at the door. The noise startled him, and he instinctively reached for the knife he kept at his belt. Another knock from another time. No. Better to leave that in the past.

A knock at this hour? He thought as he walked over to the door. He left the balcony’s gate open but grabbed a fur robe to ward off the night’s chill.

“Yes?” Kisembo called.

The door cracked open, and a guard poked his head through the opening.

“Your daughter is here to see you.”

“Soldaar. You don’t have to ask before you give passage to her.” Kisembo admonished the veteran guard.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

His daughter, Jaliel, brushed past the captain, clutching a leather-bound book to her chest. She was wearing a white nightgown and looked rather disheveled. The gown was covered in dust and the remains of cobwebs. What has she been doing? Kisembo wondered.

“Father, I couldn’t sleep,” she exclaimed.

“That makes two of us.” Kisembo said softly.

“I went through some of Kaolarr’s old things . . .”

Kisembo’s heart caught in his chest. But that mess had been cleaned up well. Five years ago, Kaolarr had been murdered the night before he was to marry Jaliel. The following investigation had been very conclusive. A secret admirer in the court had slipped past the guards pretending to be a tailor and, in a jealous rage, stabbed him in the back twice. Extremely conclusive. The whole court had been shaken, but Jaliel had been traumatized. He doubted she would ever try to marry again.

“. . . and so I came straight to you.” Jaliel finished.

“I’m sorry, dear, I missed some of that. What were you saying?”

“I found one of Kaolarr’s journals tucked away in his old rooms. I wanted to see them one last time before they renovate that wing.”

“Who else knows of this?” he asked.

“Nobody. I came straight to you.” she said. “Why?”

“No reason. You were correct to bring this journal to me.” Kisembo paused. “However, should you really be the one to read it first? His words could be emotional to read.”

“Father, I am not weak of mind,” she said.

Ah, yes. This journal, and whatever it contained, would not be dismissed so easily. The woman before him was not the same child he had raised. The child who would cry over the deaths of fairy tale characters. Kaolarr’s death had forged a new person out of the bride-to-be he had left behind. “Then we should read it together,” he said.

They walked over to his writing desk. As they sat down, he lit the lantern resting on the desk’s smooth wooden surface and brushed aside a stack of rough papers to make way for the small volume. Silently, Jaliel untied the cord that bound it and opened it to the first page. It was a simple journal entry. The date and a mundane recounting of the day’s affairs. Inwardly, he breathed a sigh of relief. Reading Kaolarr’s words again might even be healing for her, he thought.

Jaliel continued flipping through the book until an unmarked letter fell from the pages.

Kisembo reached to take it, but Jiliel snatched it off the table.

“I should read it first,” she said.

“I don’t know about that.” Kisembo said slowly.

“What if it’s sensitive? Or, one last love letter he was going to give me before our wedding?”

Kisembo ground his teeth together. What was he supposed to say?

Before he could respond, however, there was another knock at the door. “Wait here.” Kisembo told Jaliel. He walked over to the door and pulled it open.

Yeordaj, a family friend and confidant, stood in the doorway. He was Kisembo’s chief counselor and exactly the person he could use at the moment. Most importantly, he had been close to the king when Kaolarr had died. Once he had entered, Yeordaj said, “Your Majesty, I have unfortunate news. A few hours ago . . . " he trailed off as he noticed Jaliel standing off to the side of the room. “What is she doing here?” he asked.

“I couldn’t sleep. I was in Kaolarr’s old rooms one last time before the workers tear them down to expand that floor. I found an old journal of his,” she said.

Yeordaj looked to Kisembo.

“There’s nothing unexpected in it so far.” Kisembo said with a subtle nod to Yeordaj.

“Of course.” Yeordaj said.

Jaliel produced the letter from the pocket of her gown. “He had one unsent letter,” she said.

“Who is it addressed to?” Yeordaj prodded.

“Nobody,” Kisembo said. “I suggested to her that I might read it first in case it contained anything she shouldn’t have to read.” He cast a knowing glance at Yeordaj.

“And I told him I should read it first, because it might be a love letter he shouldn’t see.” Jaliel said.

“Perhaps I should read it before both of you then.” Yeordaj said. “If it is only a love letter, then my lady would read it in the privacy of her chambers later. If I found that it could be read by all, then you two would read it together. Fair?”

“I like this plan,” Kisembo said.

Jaliel nodded and handed it to Yeordaj, who broke open the seal and began to read it. Kisembo tapped his fingers on his nightstand while Yeordaj’s eyes scanned the page. As he read the letter, his face grew ashen, and when he reached the end of the page, he quickly folded it up and jammed it into his coat’s pocket. “This is no love letter. Jaliel, the king, and I need to assemble a council after what has happened tonight. I will show this letter to him privately. Rest assured, it does not concern you.”

“Those could be his last written words! I have to read them.” She demanded.

“Jaliel, you agreed . . .” Kisembo said.

Jaliel strode purposely across the room toward the two men. “Guards!” she suddenly shrieked. Kisembo and Yeordaj looked over to the door as it flew open. While they were distracted, Jaliel jumped at Yeordaj and tore the letter from his jacket.

“Jaliel!” Kisembo cried out as she ran through the doorway. The guards flooded into the room.

“Your Majesty! What is—”

“Get my daughter!” he shouted.

The guards stood there dumbfounded before Soldaar looked around and said, “Your Majesty, we won’t leave you for anything. Are you sure there is no danger?”

“Yes, Jaliel took off with . . . " Yeordaj trailed off.

“Fine, if you’re not leaving me, then catch up.” Kisembo called as he ran after his daughter. Confused, his guards followed him as he chased after Jaliel. Kisembo followed the sounds of her footsteps through the maze of halls. He discarded his heavy fur robe as he turned another corner. Ahead, Jaliel turned towards the main banquet hall. Already sweating, he turned the corner after her and flung open the two-way doors. A few servants stopped their work and stared at the king. Jaliel was nowhere in sight.

His cohort stopped short behind him. This would not look good for him. How was he going to explain this? The king chasing his daughter around the castle?

“Assassin in the king’s chambers! The crown princess is missing!” Yeordaj bellowed.

“Assassin?!” Saloarr asked as he pulled Kisembo back through the doors.

“No, the king is in no danger.” Yeordaj said while following. “However, I have no doubt that we will soon be reunited with Jaliel after my comments.”

Kisembo could hear guards taking up the call to arms outside.

“What is going on?” Saloarr demanded.

“Nobody is trying to kill me.” Kisembo said. “Set up a perimeter and leave me and Yeordaj alone. Make sure my daughter is returned to me. Against her will if necessary.”

Saloarr narrowed his eyes at Kisembo before nodding slowly and giving orders to his men.

Once they were alone, Kisembo turned to Yeordaj. “What is in that letter?” the king demanded.

“Jaliel is right. They are Kaolarr’s last words. He was going to send it to his father before he was murdered. It’s very, very clear about his identity.”

“God save us. If Jaliel discovers his Lyard lineage, she will be heartbroken.” The king muttered. What news were you bringing me when you came to my room?”

Yeordaj swallowed hard. “A recent intelligence report from Lyard suggests that Jaliel actually knew who Kaolarr really was. If that’s the case, the contents of this letter may not be a surprise to her. Your daughter may be guilty of high treason.”

“What?”

“It seems crazy, Your Majesty. I didn’t believe it myself when I heard it at first, but think about it. It would explain why she didn’t want you to read that letter. She knew it might reveal who Kaolarr really was.”

“Which it did.” Kisembo said.

Something about that didn’t seem right to Kisembo, but he didn’t have time to think about it long. Soldaar returned to the small alcove, towing Jaliel behind him.

Jaliel was weeping.

“Jaliel. My dear,” Kisembo said softly as he pulled her close.

Jaliel pushed him away. “What does this mean? Who was Kaolarr really? Father?” She pleaded, tears streaming down her face.

“Where is the letter?” he asked firmly.

She thrust it at him.

She had clearly read it, its crumpled contents smeared by her wet sobs.

He opened the letter. It read, unmistakably, in Kaolarr’s handwriting:

Kaolarr, the seventeenth day of the third month of the year 1632

I fear we have been discovered. This is obviously unfortunate, but our plans will go forward. You will receive this message after the wedding, and my marriage to Jaliel will have become official. Once I am married to her, however, little can go too wrong. Once Kisembo is dead, I will reveal my Lyard lineage and unite our two warring nations. If we are not discovered, tragedy will be averted and our heads will be spared from the Phileam sword. If we are discovered, I fear for my life and most assuredly, yours. You have hidden your tracks well, though, my old friend. Perhaps, even if we are discovered you will slip into the shadows like you always do. Regardless, consider our plan, kingdom, and lives in jeopardy, as I fear we have been found out by Kisembo’s thorough spies. My closest confidant—

The bottom corner was torn off, the final name gone.

“Jaliel, did you tear this piece off?” Kisembo asked.

“No, it was like that when I stole it,” she said.

Kisembo paused. Then it clicked. Kisembo pulled the knife out of his belt and jumped at Yoerdaj, stabbing it into the man’s chest. He pulled it out and jammed it into his side again.

Jaliel screamed.

And then he was there again. A night not unlike this one. Another knock. The truth revealed about Kaolarr. Stabbing him. Twice.

Yeordaj’s eyes grew wide as Kisembo slid his knife out. Yeordaj collapsed on the ground, spasming and coughing up blood.

“I knew it . . . couldn’t last forever.” Yeordaj croaked.

“All along you were a Lyard spy?” Kisembo whispered into Yeordaj’s ear.

Yeordaj wheezed. “Kaolarr . . . Would have become king . . . of both our kingdoms.”

“All along. All along.” Kisembo muttered.

“Father! Why!” Jaliel was screeching. Soldaar and his guards were running towards them.

Kisembo reached into Yeordaj’s coat and dug around in his pocket until he found what he was looking for. The corner. It simply read, Yeordaj.

“You weren’t coming to tell me Jaliel was guilty of high treason. Because you were.” Kisembo hissed at Yeordaj.

“I was coming to kill you.” Yeordaj growled clutching his side writhing in pain on the floor.

Kisembo lifted the piece of paper towards Jaliel. She read it and gasped. “You killed him,” she said again.

“He was the son of the Lyard king but not by the king’s wife. He was going to try to take both of our thrones. You were just a tool to him.” Kisembo said in a hushed voice. Distantly he could hear more shouts. Briefly the world seemed to be just him and Jaliel.

“Yeordaj was Lyard?” she whispered. Her face growing pale.

“No. Kaolarr was. I killed him.”