Duchess Elise calls four hours before the late-morning sunrise. The moon has not set, but I am already dressed in a cobalt gray robe, which buttons at the front. It is the only clothing the Prince has chosen that I can put on without help.
By the paleness of Elise's skin, and shadows beneath her eyes, I see I am not the only one who has slept badly. My head feels like packed snow from last night's wine. Sleep, when it finally came, was heavy and deep, and has left me groggy and exhausted.
But even with the general muffle over my senses, I have the impression we are being followed. Of course there are the two guards who accompany the Duchess, and two more discreetly trail me, but there is someone or something else lurking in the twilight of the mind-world, plucking at my attention.
We wind through the fort, down narrow streets and enclosed courtyards, passing arches that peek through to the empty market square. A passing patrol of soldiers bow to the Duchess. They show no surprise at the sight of her wandering before the fort has risen, and I realize she is a woman with free rein, accustomed to being among her people and going where she chooses, when she chooses.
Up ahead, two lookouts in the bell tower keep watch over the northern side of the lake. She stops before a low, freestanding structure with closed shutters. I work the frosty air in and out of my chest in an effort to remain calm, already stretching my senses to glean Kel's whereabouts.
The Duchess opens the door to a workshop. She casts a look behind as we enter, and again I have the sense of someone there, though my inner eye touches no minds other than the assigned guards.
The pottery workshop smells of wet clay and earthen minerals, mixed with a trace of the Duchess's sweet berry perfume. A pottery wheel stands on one side near a cushioned bench. Drying racks are stacked against the walls, littered with sandy, bone-hard figurines, glazed vases, and prettily painted bowls.
The Duchess closes us inside, lights a lantern and goes to a second door in a crevice at the back. Before turning the rusted key in its lock, she pauses.
"I have a daughter, Claudia." These are the first words she has spoken since last night and her voice sounds as gray and troubled as the dark moons beneath her eyes. "She is twelve years old. My son, Jules, is seven." Her lips rise in an unauthentic smile.
Inside me, the uneasy bud of paranoia I have carried here, blossoms. "Jules is third in line to the throne. When we thought Prince Jakut had been assassinated—"
"You were concerned your husband and son would be next."
We must move the boys. She was talking about Kel and her own son.
"Jules will be eight this year and is summoned to the Ruby Court to continue his education. I have done what was needed to protect my family."
Did the Duchess intend to send Kel with Jules to the Ruby palace to protect her son? Or had the Duke and Duchess bought Kel to take their son's place at the royal court once they heard Jakut was missing, presumed dead.
The Duchess knows Kel's age means it will not be long before his glitter eyes settle. An Uru Ana would be able to travel through Jules's memories, learn his world, his life and be presented to the Ruby Court as the King's Lyndonian nephew. If this was her plan, she must believe the attack on her son's life is inevitable, and fatal.
The Duchess pushes open the low door, hands me her lantern and a key. "At the end of the passage you will be met by a door. Lock it behind you. When you reach the stairs, climb to the second floor. You will see only one way in. The key fits both doors."
The narrow handle for the lantern slips between my clammy fingers. Until last night, she intended to throw Kel into the wolfish intrigue and dangers of the Ruby Court.
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Shadow Weaver (Back on Wattpad 2020!)
Fantasy"Mooooorrrrrrrreeeeeeee, this book is like air, i need it!" @noromance101 "These chapters are written BEAUTIFULLY! You are, without a doubt, my favorite writer on this site. " @nagykt "Reading this feeds my soul." @Yrthraethra Sixteen-year-old M...