Airelle ceased her struggling, for the knave's grasp, though gentle in semblance, was hard as iron upon her flesh. Wide grew her eyes, and lo, her tears were stanched in sudden wonder. Yea, even the knave himself stood astonied at the deed which Acheros had wrought.
Then loosed he his hold upon the Grand Duchess, who straightway fled as a bird unshackled, and with desperate haste leapt unto the place where lay the severed heads of her children. Acheros, wan of spirit, moved aside from the lifeless forms, and let fall the sword from his trembling hand. His eyes, already as dead pools, seemed now darker still, void of all mortal light. With one hand he clutched his wound, and with heavy step withdrew.
But Airelle, stricken with a grief beyond mortal measure, seized unto her bosom the beloved heads of Ira and Castian, pressing them close against her heart. There lifted she her voice, and cried aloud, a sound so riven with anguish.
Then with tearful eyes did Airelle turn unto Acheros, and in trembling voice she questioned,
"Why, Acheros… why?"
"Ah—" quoth he, and his sigh was heavy as though the weight of the world did rest upon his breast. "Mother, thou art yet so passing naïve."
The knave, yet seated upon his throne-like chair, lifted his hand and spake unto the guards with chilling calm:
"Deal ye with the corpses of the twain as I desire. Let no whisper of truth steal beyond these walls. Bear the woman unto her chamber, and let it be cried abroad that the son and daughter of Grand Duke Valentino met their deaths by savage beasts whilst at play within the forest."
Thereafter he rose, his gaze falling first upon his weeping wife, and then upon Acheros. With measured tone he uttered:
"Come thou unto mine office, when thou hast washed thyself clean."
Acheros departed thence from that chamber of sorrow, nor deigned he once to cast his gaze behind. Only the anguished cry of his mother pursued him through the silence: "Touch them not—touch them not, ye heartless varlets!"
…
When he had washed and tended his wounds, he set his feet toward the knave's chamber. Yet a strange heaviness stole upon his breast, and as he passed a casement he did glance outward. Then widened his lifeless eyes, for there before him were the bodies of Ira and Castian, cruelly impaled, their tender heads set high upon spears.
And lo, in that hour of horror, his soul cried out though his lips were sealed. "Why, Father… why?" quoth the voice within, torn betwixt wrath and despair.
His heart did heave as though it would burst, yet no tear was suffered forth.
Downward he cast his gaze, swallowing the bitter flood, and with steps leaden as doom itself, he trod toward that accursèd chamber, where the knave did bide his coming.