Shadow Weaver (Back on Wattpad 2020!)

Chapter 45

The aches and pains of my body burn through the fog of my mind. I grow conscious of the buzz of insects nearby, a strong scent of sweet blooms, my cheek flushed from too much sun, the thin padding of grass beneath me. I open my eyes. The sun is no longer high in the sky. Two hours must have passed since I fell into a drugged sleep.

I lie still, registering the silence. The sounds of clashing swords, shouting, and screaming are over. The drums of Strik's approaching army gone.

I feel dazed. Every inch of me hurts, but my heart swells with gratitude. I am alone. Which means Tug has left the Ruby Palace. It is a bittersweet realization. I will probably never see him again. If all goes to plan, Kel will be with our parents by the autumn, and Tug will be forced to spend the long-sleep in the north. By next spring, the fate of Caruca and my own fate will be already written.

Approaching footsteps cut off my thoughts. I tuck my legs into my chest and pain stabs my side, bringing tears to my eyes. Mountain laurel and bright pink azaleas block the path from view. I listen as the footsteps pass. Then a voice shouts,

"Over here!"

Others come running. I breathe deeply in and out, despite the way it hurts. Don't panic. Not yet. They may be looking for something or someone else. Curled up on my side, I focus on the rich scents of the garden. Move on, I will the men. Do not see me.

Leaves rustle. The laurel bush shudders. Then a figure leans over, blocking out the sun. He stares down. My heart flips over and lodges in my throat.

I blink rapidly, trying to rid myself of the tears smearing my vision, and adjust my eyes to his face. A young, handsome face with a prominent scar drawing a line from the side of his lip to the bottom of his chin. My muscles tighten. Terror trickles down my spine.

"It's her," he says. The voice only confirms my fears. This man is the officer from the north. The King's officer who was looking for the Prince near the Pit, and who abandoned me in that tumbledown shed when he realized Tug and Brin were hiding nothing more than a wayward girl held against her will.

"You want me to take her, Commander?" one of the soldiers asks, stepping forward as the high-ranking officer reaches down. He ignores the man, hauls me up roughly and throws me over his shoulder. I yelp and begin moaning as he carries me, my bruised rib crushed against his shoulder, my head smacking against his back.

The mind-dulling effects of the Nocturne Melody vanish as adrenaline kicks in. I strain to look up through strands of hair at the soldiers following the commander. They scan the gardens furtively, watching for signs of trouble.

A little jolt of hope lights me up. Had the Prince sent them? I push into the commander's memories, no easy feat with the agony in my shoulder and ribcage summoning me back to the present.

The shape and texture of Commander Linx's mind is shimmering and brittle. I find my way in as easily as that day outside the Hybourg. If a castle made of glass and steel existed, rising to the sky in one sleek, smooth form, it would capture it well.

I remain close to the edge, scanning recent memories to discover who has sent him.

A torch lights his way. His footsteps and those of the man following him echo through the hollow network of tunnels. The air is close, pervaded by a smell of mould and rot.

They reach an underground chamber. It is an old wine cellar, barrels stacked in rows, packing straw strewn across the floor, soaked through, making a nasty sludge under foot. Three dishevelled men are slumped against the nearest wall, heads hung low.

"These two were carrying messages from the Queen," the commander says, grabbing one of them by the hair at the top of his head and pulling back so that the man's bruised face is visible. "But this one, I think will be of particular interest, my Lord."