The whole thing was turning into a growing headache. I watched as the barely breathing, unconscious old orc was hauled out of the room under the watchful gaze of a pseudo-Julietta and barely stopped myself from rolling my eyes.

  First of all, I had no interest in his crown, or his so-called kingdom. Pseudo-kingdom, really. It was a federation of strongholds, held together solely by K’hordock’s personal power. Kingdom in name only. Even he had never dared, or never bothered, to claim the title of king. Once his grip was gone, the whole messy amalgam would splinter back into feuding fiefdoms, each warring or scheming for more.

  Was that my problem? They wanted to make it mine, but I could still say no.

  As the doors shut behind K’hordock, now on life support with his precious elf hovering beside him, I kept staring at them, still thinking about her. It didn’t make sense.

  She called herself Julietta, but she wasn’t my Julietta. Just a flawed copy. A copy that had lived here with him for decades. That was the strange part. Why bother capturing the real Julietta if he already had this version? Was it just greed? A desperate need to possess the original?

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. So… where was my Julietta?

  I was exhausted, and my willingness to talk, or tolerate nonsense, was plummeting below zero. I’ve never been the patient type, and I really, really wanted to be done with this mess. But I also didn’t want to come off like some power-drunk overlord. I’d always hated people who threw their weight around to make others tremble - looking at you, schoolmarm! - so I tried not to be one of them.

  All I wanted was to be at home, in comfort, with my friends. Good food, good wine (or juice), I’m not picky. A little music. Was that really too much to ask?

  Instead, here I was, surrounded by burly orcs and one particularly awful orc woman who looked like she’d stepped straight out of a villainous nightmare. If someone needed a casting call for “vile, scheming orc cabal,” this bunch would ace it.

  This was K’hordock’s council: three crusty old wizards, three muscle-bound warriors, that deranged sorceress, and I added the castle’s grim-faced guard captain.

  They should be able to answer my questions.

  "I'm starting to lose my patience," I said. "My Julietta was kidnapped, by your people, so don’t even bother denying it. Someone here knows something. The faster you tell me who did it and where she is, the better it’ll be… for everyone."

  My eyes swept across the room. This wasn’t the first time I’d asked.

  "Your Highness, this Julietta you're asking about, was she an elf or a human?" one of the muscled warriors asked. I nearly made his head pop like a melon. The General of the Ninth Army, if I remembered right. Then I recalled he’d been unconscious the last time I explained it. Fine, he got a pass this time.

  "There were no sanctified raids against elves lately!" the grotesque sorceress croaked.

  They were all sitting like I told them to, exchanging glances as I paced the room.

  "But Your Highness," another brick of an orc interrupted, "you just met Lady Julietta!" That was the Marquis of the North, or something equally pompous. I’d forgotten his name. It was their top mage, level ninety-seven.

  I snorted and was about to reply when the oldest orc in the room, a walking wrinkle with eyes like smoked glass, quietly raised a hand.

  "Your Highness," he said, voice barely a whisper, "may we speak in private?"

  The others shot him a mix of curious and murderous looks.

  I raised a brow. So there was more to this, just as I suspected. I made an effort to recall his name. He wasn’t officially part of the council, but he had been present, an advisor of sorts, a divinarch, if I remembered correctly.

  I hesitated. Should I ask the others to leave the room, or tell him to speak now regardless of the audience?

  My mind flicked to Julietta’s isolation ring. How had it worked again? Actually… I should be able to create something similar myself. I focused on the idea: a silent, light-proof space, sealed off from the outside. That was about what I wanted to have. The spell formed instinctively.

  Before I had even consciously started casting, the effect snapped into place. We were suddenly elsewhere, both of us standing in a space wrapped in complete darkness. No walls, no floor, no ceiling. Just blackness in every direction. And yet, there was light somehow. A strange, sourceless glow that came not from within the void, but as the void.

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  I raised my brows, pleasantly surprised. Well now. This was a neat trick. I was on a roll!

  The orc gasped audibly beside me. He glanced around, eyes wide with a flicker of fear at the emptiness surrounding us.

  I shrugged.

  “You wanted privacy. Now speak.” My voice came out tired, flat. I wasn’t in the mood for long-winded nonsense.

  He coughed, then lifted his eyes to meet mine. When he finally spoke, it was barely more than a whisper, sounding low and raw.

  “Your Highness… I remember divining many times for that particular elf, decades ago. Each time, my magic returned the same answer: she was not in this world. Not just dead - gone. Entirely removed from this plane. It was… unnatural. Lord K’hordock refused to accept it. He insisted she was alive and that my divinations were flawed.”

  “So, he was looking for her,” I said.

  “Yes, Your Highness. But again… that was many years ago.”

  “Fine. What does this have to do with me? And what’s the deal with that elf who claims she’s Julietta?”

  “I’m getting to that, Your Highness. Everyone believes she is Julietta Trachenorma, even she does, but…”

  “But?” I pressed, my patience fraying.

  “She was just an ordinary elf. At the time, she was doing... ”

  “Spare me the build-up,” I snapped. “Just come to the point. I don’t have time.”

  He gulped, then sighed, and suddenly started speaking fast, as if afraid he’d lose his nerve if he paused.

  “They had a deal. She got to play the role - as long as he lived, she would be Julietta. In return, she’d be treated like royalty. Everything given to her, she keeps, even after his death. She was just a poor, ordinary elf before, had money problems, nothing special. I don’t know where he found her. They deleted their memories afterward. There’s a crystal with her real memories. I’m the one keeping it. I’m supposed to give it to her once he dies.”

  “They deleted their memories? He deleted his memories?” I cut in, startled. That was... extreme.

  “Yes,” he said with a nod. “He wanted everything tied to her erased. It was Archmage Torex who handled it, at his request. I don’t know where his memories were stored, but Torex has been dead for over two decades now. Nobody else knows the truth, Your Highness. Not even her. I assume - pardon me - I assume someone tried to divine Julietta's name, and it pointed to her? Because she bears the name and is, well, a replacement? That’s possible, isn’t it?”

  I didn’t answer right away. I paced the room, which strangely seemed to stretch and shift, expanding to accommodate my stride. Odd noises rustled from the pseudo-walls, like snakes slithering over dry leaves.

  He followed me with his eyes, sweat glistening on his forehead. He wiped it, then looked down at his trembling hand. He caught it with the other, took a deep breath, and finally looked up.

  “No,” I said flatly. “Is that all?”

  He blinked, surprised. “Yes, Your Highness.”

  As I wished to sit, a black chair appeared out of nowhere. I straddled it, resting my elbows on the backrest, my forehead on my hands. I sighed.

  “If he has his own Julietta, if he believes she’s the real one… why would he capture mine?” I murmured.

  “I… I don’t think Lord K'hordock even knew there was another lady by that name, or that he’d care...” he mumbled.

  “Could you divine her location if I asked you to?”

  His eyes widened in fear.

  “I... I could try, Your Highness, but divination is an imprecise art. If… if we’re speaking of the same person I once tried to find… I don’t understand why I saw she wasn’t in this world! That failure was humbling, Your Highness, I... ”

  He was afraid to fail again.

  “If you fail, you fail,” I said, trying to calm him, but probably failing. My voice came out too flat. “That time, it didn’t work because she really wasn’t in this world. Your divination was correct.”

  His eyes went wider in surprise. That part of the message seemed to bring him some measure of respite.

  “Truly, Your Highness?”

  I nodded. He drew a deep breath, as if surfacing after a long dive.

  “I... I would need something from her,” he said, hesitating. “A personal item, if possible. Something fresh…”

  “Would one of her combs do? She used it a couple of weeks ago.” I pulled it from my inventory.

  “That would be perfect, Your Highness. I’ll need access to my laboratory to prepare the ritual. It could take about half an hour…” He looked up at me, hopeful.

  I nodded and dismissed the spell.

  The dark walls vanished instantly, and we reappeared in the midst of a group of orcs mid-conversation. They jumped back, startled.

  So the spell had actually moved us to a separate space? Interesting.

  The divinarch bowed deeply, then hurried off toward the exit.

  I turned to the remaining orcs.

  “Which one of you is best suited to be the new king?”

  That one question started a panic show.