He can remember having a nightmare-- but of what, he isn't certain.

There is always a recurring color. Red. But it is not a flat red, nor a fiery red, but rather an oily, insidious red that is felt rather than seen. That is what woke him and sent him inching out of bed, sneaking past his nurse and onto the chill perfect marble floor.

This is when he went to her instead of Schala.

He had had nightmares before, but they had been getting worse lately. His mother had been spending more and more time downstairs with the mages, so scary nights were the only real time he got to see her—and maybe he saw her once or twice on his own, even if he didn't have a nightmare.

He would tug on her hand, which hung over the bed, and she would raise her magnificent plumed head up to look at him. Then she smiled and said his name so softly that he stopped being scared.

She always pulled aside the thick purple blankets and tucked him next to her, and her arms made him a part of her. They slept deeply and if the red came again Janus didn't remember. And in the morning, he liked to see the nurses come in and scold him, only to be scolded by his mother. She would hug him and stroke his hair for a while longer, until she woke him up and dressed him—a rare treat.

Afterwards, she kissed him on each cheek and told him he was a naughty boy, tricking her like he did. He only smiled his small secret smile, which earned him another kiss.

'Remember to have Schala practice her harp,' she always told him. It was his job.

But he had not seen his mother in a long time. She was there, but he couldn't see her or hug her because she was with the gurus all the time-- and he had just had another nightmare.

The Hall was light even at night, because all the white turned to blue. The fountains tinkled quietly on the lower levels. Her big golden door was always closed, but she kept it unlocked just for him.

He pattered up to it, pink bare feet cold on the gleaming marble. Usually a single clumsy push was all that was needed, and he raised his arms to do it—but the door held fast. Confused, he let his full weight fall against it and slipped down to his butt, bunching his nightdress up around his belly.

Up on his feet, he tried again, shoving more and more anxiously with his little hands. The door began to rattle every other push, and his face started to screw up and turn red because he'd just had a nightmare and somebody had locked his mother's door.

Maybe they were still in there with her, because there were sounds coming from inside. There was a banging noise that was getting faster and faster, and a gruff noise like a dog growl and he thought he heard his mother in there too.

Then his mother cried out and scared him, and he whimpered and pushed at the door more, so, so close to tears. His mother was in trouble but by the time his soft little arms had given up and he'd sat down crying, the lock finally came undone and he had to scoot out of the way of the door.

He hid a little, because the thing that came out was big and hairy. When it looked around, Janus saw it was a man with long wavy hair. The man didn't see him at first. But when he made to close the door, he looked down and spotted him. His thick eyebrows rose and he looked back, then carefully closed the door behind him.

"Well. Hello, there." He whispered cheerily, but something in his big teeth bothered Janus, so he scooted back more. The man just looked around, suddenly, like he was happy.

"Shhh." He pressed a finger to his lips and walked off, smoothing his clothes. Janus watched him with eyes that had been startled dry, keeping still until he was well out of sight. When he felt it was safe, he toddled anxiously into his mother's room. He hoped she was okay and not hurt.

The room was dark and the blankets were everywhere. But her hand wasn't hanging over the edge of the bed, so he tried to climb up and get it. Each time he slipped and fell back down, over and over again, until finally she rose up and looked at him.

He raised his arms to be picked up, but she only turned over, rustling deeper into her purple blankets until he couldn't see her.

"Not now, Janus," she muttered, voice ugly and sleepy. "Go back to bed."

He stood there with his arms up for a few more minutes, then waved them with a tiny protesting sound. He even tried climbing back up onto the bed again. But she was asleep and would not reach out to him.

He had to walk back to his room and climb up into his bed for the first time. He was left with a cold, incredibly empty feeling, and cried until his woke his nurse.

Later, he decided the man had hurt her, to make her act like that. And he was strong and mean because it happened again and again and again. The door was locked again and again and again. That was when his mother was stolen from him. That was when he turned to Schala. Moreover, that was when the oily red moved from his head into the palace.

And when he learned the man's name, he hated Dalton with all his heart.