The young woman’s back went as straight as a ruler. Her chin rose like the advent of monarchy. She put her hands on her hips.

“I am not. How dare you accuse me of lying? My blood is as pure as my father, Prince Hamlet of Denmark! I may not be first in line to the throne, but if King Claudius should die, I will be next to inherit the throne after my step-aunt, Gertrude, and my father!”

There was no way he’d fall for it a third time, right?

The ghost-[Knight] just stared at her. After a moment, he put his sword down. It remained in the ground as he sat on the lid of one of the caskets and rubbed at his forehead. He looked like he was not having a good day.

“You’re lying.”

“I am not.”

The [Knight] squinted suspiciously as the young woman’s tone changed, growing refined with that regal air of command hidden behind each word. He had obviously just seen her pretend to faint, but it was a good act the young woman was putting on. A flicker of doubt crossed his features.

“What [Princess] roams alone? Where is your escort? I do not know your nation. Name yourself.”

“I am—Cara. Cara of Denmark, and I take after my father, Hamlet, who is at this moment fighting in a war against Norway! I don’t suppose you would know, being a—a ghost and all. I scarcely knew of Noelictus. I fell into this tomb quite by accident. My escort was meant to keep me company, but after that dreadful moment with the death of the late King Hamlet—”

“Aha! I thought your father was Hamlet.”

The [Knight] pounced with a triumphant tone in his voice. Cara rolled her eyes indignantly.

“My father Hamlet isn’t my grandfather, King Hamlet of Denmark. The first. I am his descendant, and while his brother, Claudius took the throne, I have definite doubts about the legality of his claim.”

“Er. Do you?”

The [Knight] blinked. But his question invited a flurry of words. Princess Cara paced back and forth.

“It’s quite simple. My father, Prince Hamlet—is a good man. So was my grandfather, and I feel as though my uncle, my brother and now the King of Denmark, Claudius, may have ascended…in less than honorable fashion. However, there is no proof. My father has been troubled by memories of his father, Hamlet I.”

“As opposed to Hamlet II?”

The young woman spun, her voice eager and desperate.

“Exactly! He has told me and my grandmother—Gertrude, as well as his best friend, Sir Horatio, of his dreams. He claims his father was…murdered.”

The ghost-knight just stared at her. Cara was sweating as he scratched at his head.

“I…I do not know a nation called ‘Denmark.’ Nor is the name ‘Hamlet’ among the Hundred Families of Terandria. If this is some trick…”

“Hardly a trick!”