Shadow Weaver (Back on Wattpad 2020!)

Chapter 22

The muscles beneath my eyes twitch with tiredness. I meant to sleep before tonight's banquet in honor of the "found" Prince of Caruca, but the last ten hours have sped by in a state of tense anticipation. Over and over, hope swelled as I stretched my awareness through the fort. Driven by the conviction that the next mind I touched would send me tumbling into a warm cloud of feathery dandelion seeds. The next mind would be Kel's. Or the next one. Or the next.

But I have not found him. And now jittery and washed out, my taut attitude is doing nothing to appease the nervous maid. She tugs the threads of my dress too tight. She dabs garnet lip-dust on my lips and smudges dark charcoal so thickly around my eyes I look ghoulish. As she braids my hair in front of a silver-wrought mirror, I make a mental map of the fort, trying to work out what my search missed.

But doubt spreads through me. What if the Duke has ordered Kel from Lyndonia? What if there is some truth in Brin's amulet protections, and they have confined my brother in a crystal-padded room where I cannot sense him. Or, worst of all, what if Kel's mind has altered beyond recognition? Experience shifts perception. The way we perceive and interpret the world alters the form and texture of a mind. Tug's mind reshaped right in front of my inner eye! How much could Kel's have changed over the last few days?

There comes a knock on the bedroom door, splintering my thoughts. The maid jumps. Flower-headed pins scatter.

"Leave them."

"But your hair," she stutters, "is half done."

"It is fine."

My visitor is not Tug, Brin or the Prince. I nod at the maid and when her back is turned, rush to the fireplace to stand with my hands in reach of the poker.

The door opens. The maid curtseys and shuffles aside revealing the Duchess.

"Your Grace," I say, curtseying and bowing my head. Her guards wait out of sight. How many are with her, or where they are positioned is inconsequential. She is the threat, not them.

As the maid leaves, Duchess Elise stands by the door, watching me. I do not rise until the tilt of her head shows me I have her permission. In the soft glow of the room's torchlight, her face is a mystery. Not a single line around the mouth nor eyes reveal her thirty years. Not a hint in her expression tells of her shock and sudden illness in the royal hall. It is as Tug said. As though it never happened.

I smooth my hands over the pale-gold waist of my silk dress and take slow breaths, my chest pushing against the fitted bodice.

She sways towards me, enquiring eyes locked on my face. "It is as I feared," she says. "They have exhausted you riding through the night on horseback."

"I am well, Your Grace. Thank you for your concern. And I am happy you seem in better health now," I add, prodding to see if there are any cracks in her mask of dignified composure.

"I am much better, thank you, Mirra. A disagreement with the dragon-fish I ate for lunch. May I sit with you before we are called for dinner?"

"Of course." I move to the window seat, showing her my back so she cannot read the disappointment in my face. I had planned on spending a few minutes spying on the Duke and Duchess before the banquet. I wished to scan what they have done since our meeting in the great hall. The Prince will expect it. And without more information about the Duchess, I am vulnerable.

She sits close beside me. Her auburn hair has been restyled in a stunning weave of gold and silver clips. Matching gold and silver leaves embroider her ruffled cream dress.

"Your father must trust and esteem your guards very highly to have sent you and Prince Jakut all this way with a two-man escort."

I sit up straighter, tiredness diminished by a prick of adrenaline. She is probing for information about Tug. No Tug, she won't simply forget you. She might not divulge your presence to the Duke, not yet, but that is because she wishes to understand it first.