Tylla paced the length of the imperial balcony cradling little Corelllas in her arms. The baby, nineteen moons old with creamy brown skin, a cap of black curls, and inquisitive Davadas eyes, squirmed and whimpered as if he could sense the tension within her slender body. Her eyes were trained beyond Arki's pink sands to the Crags, fiery red mountains jutting high into the hazy skies.

  Suddenly, a rider appeared on the crest of a dune. Kicking up clouds of sand, the rider headed straight for the citadel gate. Tylla lifted her hand to shade her eyes from the blinding white sands. Her heart thrilled at the sight of Carmelle riding hard and leaning over Sola's mane. Carmelle's hair, grown out several inches since she'd fled the Wols, was a fiery halo surrounding her pale face. The leather trousers and loose linen shirt she wore gave her the appearance of a handsome young man.

  When impatience had led Tylla to send out a scout to assess the situation, Carmelle was the first to volunteer. Tylla was against risking the life of her lover, but when Carmelle reminded her that she was the best rider among them, the princess relented.

  Tylla had witnessed the phases of four mother and daughter moons since the Davadas princess and her companions, Rigel, Carmelle, and Leiffen arrived at Mymimium with parched throats and lathering mounts. By defying her mother, Tylla put herself in direct opposition to the queen. And now, an army from her own city fortified by Nazeer troops was assembling within the Crags.

  But when will they attack?

  Tylla's anxious fingers clutched the Illymium pearl, diamond, and star sapphire necklace she had received as a wedding gift from her mother.

  "Your name might be Davadas," Hyperia had said to her when she placed the necklace around her throat, but never forget you are also an Illymium with light in your heart and stars in your eyes.

  Back then, Tylla had thought it was all foolishness, and yet something caused her act at the God Gate, to defy her mother so completely. It was a declaration of that fiery spirit Hyperia had referred to, but also of war.

  And now I must see it through. She turned with a sweep of her skirts and headed down the stairs. Two servants, crones of her grandparents’ reign, curtsied with creaking joints as Tylla passed.

  The taste of freedom she experienced when released from her mother's yoke had given way to worry and anxiety. Despite the thick, high walls and crenelated battlements, Mynimium was not prepared for battle.

  "So, we'll have to use magic," Rigel had insisted.

  Since arriving at Mynimium, Rigel and Leiffen Skaard—both Illymiums by birth—had been hard at work in the city's ancient libraries gathering the materials they needed to protect her. One cracked leather tome gave them a glimmer of hope, not by way of magic, but something far more practical. It was a war manual with detailed military strategies and illustrations depicting ancient warfare, including an elaborate and bloody naval battle on Lake Ara.

  "Take a look at these things, will you?" Rigel said to Leiffen, pointing at an illustration of an elaborate catapult war machine twice the size of the depicted soldier standing next to it. "Hornets, they're called."

  Leiffen whistled a tune, then sang, "Beware the lure fine ladies bring. Within their rosebuds hide a sting."

  "Think we might find one of these fine ladies lying about?" asked Rigel.

  "Wouldn't hurt to take another look," said Leiffen.

  Rigel closed the book and returned it to the dusty shelf.

  Examining the armory had been the refugee's first task when they arrived at Mynimium after several days' journey through the Weir and around Lake Ara. They had found nothing but a few rusted swords. Scipio Davadas had carried off the rest as booty along with the princesses Hyperia and Starlex after his great victory against Nargos Nazeer.

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Still, the adventure distracted the men from the endless waiting for Oran's army to strike. After an hour or so of searching through the sandy corridors, they found a store of four Hornets concealed beneath dust-encrusted rugs in the armory's cellar.

  "How'd we miss these before?" Rigel asked Leiffen.

  "We didn't go down this far into the bowels. Heavens! This city is old."

  "I'll say. Why do you think Scipio left these machines behind?"

  "Probably too cumbersome to haul out of here. Let's see what we can do?"

  With what manpower they were able to assemble among the sparse, mostly elderly, citizenry, they heaved the apparatuses to the city courtyard over several days, and what tinkers remained got to work oiling the Hornets gears and replacing the ropes.

  Then, using an elaborate pulley system Leiffen had developed, the entire citizenry hoisted the machines to the top of the wall and erected one in each corner of the citadel. Then they went about gathering stones to use as projectiles. According to the war manual, the stones should be coated with an incendiary oil known as Star Fire. The oil was created under great secrecy by the wisest sages of Mynimium, but unfortunately, every one of them had died without passing on their secrets. Rigel made it his mission to search through every library shelf and empty study until he gained knowledge of the deadly brew.

  For many moons, they had waited, and not an arrow came from the Oran camp. At night, only the army's campfires, blending with the red soot hovering over the Crags, signaled their presence.

  "Open the gates!” Tylla commanded the two old sentries, who were languishing in the shade. The men draped the ropes across their backs, and feet digging into the pink sand for purchase, Mynimium's colossal gates creaked open.

  Tylla glanced at Rigel who had suddenly appeared by her side. "Where have you been?"

  "In the library," he said, panting. "I may be able to make something close to Star Fire on my own." His brow knit as he considered something. "It may take a while to make enough of it, though."

  "Hmm," Tylla muttered.

  "Those Hornets were used against the Thrades' attempt to siege Oran two Zars before Davadas rule," he said excitedly. "There may be some bottles of the sting hidden in the catacombs. Ah, here's our scout." Rigel shifted his attention to Carmelle, who trotted toward the open gates.

  "Well?" said Tylla, as the sentries closed the ancient doors behind her.

  Carmelle raised a finger as Rigel handed her a water jug. Some splashed on his hand.

  "Don't waste the water," scolded Tylla.

  "We have plenty in reserve," said Rigel, helping Carmelle dismount.

  "Perhaps we do now," Tylla countered with an anxious gaze at the stone trough, "but in three more moons in this standoff, we won't."

  "She's right," said Lieffen, who had jogged up to greet hem.

  Carmelle led Sola to the trough to drink then dunked in her entire head up to her shoulders. She came up shaking like a dog until her hair shot up in short red spikes.

  "Good idea, love," said Leiffen. Following Carmelle’s lead, he made a comical dive head-first into the trough.

  Tylla huffed impatiently, waiting for Leiffen to finish splashing. Rigel giggled despite the hard sidelong glance his cousin gave him.

  Carmelle slid down the stone wall and sat, exhausted, on the sandy dirt. "I climbed the first crag and was able to spy on them. This helped..." she said, tossing the Illymium spyglass that had once belonged to Starlex to Rigel.

  "Careful with that, please," said Rigel, catching the spyglass and attaching it to his belt.

  "So, what did you see?" Tylla asked.

  "Nargos has joined them with several of his henchmen," Carmelle said.

  "That's not good," said Leiffen, who emerged from the trough after submerging himself completely. He pushed his long black hair from his face then removed his sweat-soaked linen shirt, dipped it in the trough, and used it to mop his chest.

  Rigel made a quick intake of breath at the sight of the handsome Illymium's slim and chiseled torso riddled with tattoos and a few battle scars. From his high cheekbones slicing the hot air to the twinkle in his dark eyes, Leiffen Skaard made a pretty picture. And the more time Rigel spent with him, the more he liked him.

  "So, Nargos is here," said Tylla. "What does that mean?"

  "It means he got tired of rutting your mother," said Rigel.

  Leiffen and Carmelle laughed at Rigel's crass joke.

  "Can't any of you be serious?" said Tylla. She pointed to the gates. "How long do you think we can hold out against an attack?"

  "Longer than we think," said Rigel. "They may have an army, but these walls are impenetrable. That gate will hold till the next Zar."

  Tylla doubted it. After all, her father, King Scipio, had breached it during the Nazeer's siege and had taken her mother as a spoil.

  Carmelle caught Tylla's eye and smiled. "We'll think of something."

  Tylla nodded. "Let's go inside and dine," she said. But even as she and her friends retired to the palace dining hall to be waiting on by the few remaining palace servants, she wondered how long their fantasy of starting their own pleasure-palace utopia would last. She tried to focus on the now and not the lingering fear of how she and her friends would one day make a foolhardy footnote in Ardelym's historical records.