Shadow Weaver (Back on Wattpad 2020!)

Chapter 38

In a place between sleep and wakefulness, where dreams entwine with visions from the mind-world, I find myself in the Ruby Palace throne room. Except, I am not standing at the bottom of the dais steps behind the Prince and the Duke, as I did last night when the Queen questioned us for over an hour. I am beside the King's empty throne seat, near the three royal council members wearing billowing robes.

A strange wind gusts into the enormous hall, carrying voices. Wailing, mournful voices. Voices that scream and writhe as though a thousand minds have been trapped and crushed together.

I should not be able to hear the voices, and it is important no one discovers I can. So I pretend I'm listening to the disagreement surging between the Queen and the Duke. The Queen presses for information about the whereabouts of the men who survived the attack on the Prince's escort. The Duke wants to discuss how they will reinforce the Carucan army and drive back the Eteans who sack villages all along the western border.

The voices in the wind grow louder, spiralling around me. All the giant candles lighting the great hall blow out, and a faint voice howls my name.

I wake, heart thumping, the back of my skull prickling. Kel's cry echoes in my head beneath a chorus of insects, clicking and scratching outside my window.

I roll over and am at once reminded of my bruised rib, by a sharp pain. In my mind's eye, I recall the marbled umber and cinnamon pillars of the throne room, the elaborate floor designs, the dais with its empty throne, and the Queen calling me forward to describe the events of the bird-men attack.

Though last night she did not question the Duke's reason for my presence, it was clear she did not believe I was in the Ruby Palace to find a husband. She permitted my guardian, Tug, to stay in nearby quarters, but I was certain she'd be adding reinforcements. A sentiment already confirmed by the two unfamiliar minds lingering outside my chambers.

I kick off the bed throw and get up from the floor, avoiding abrupt movements. My loose nightshirt stops mid-way down my calves. I check my short knife is still strapped to my thigh. The familiar feel of it in my palm is reassuring. Tug has finally returned my weapons. A symbol of the fact he wants us to trust each other?

I move to the arched frame, which opens onto an ochre-tiled balcony. Heat rises through my feet as I step into the breeze. I inhale the fresh, warm air, pushing down thoughts of the strange dream-memory. Then I take in the dizzying view.

My guest room is in a high, domed tower that almost topples off the side of the palace. A vast mountain range stretches across the horizon. The east side of the mountain, unlike the west with its stepped terraces and streets winding to the summit, has a thousand-foot vertical drop. One or two houses cling to the cliff, but the terraces start so far below, the houses and people resemble children's toys.

The angle of the high sun signals it is near noon. I can't believe I have slept so long, and so well, despite the distraction of so many minds, and my own fears of this new, gossamer-threaded spider-web world.

I throw the blankets back on the bed so it looks slept in, put on a light shawl and peer into the corridor.

A maid and a soldier stand in the marble sheen. She is laughing; his hand is almost touching hers. The moment they notice me, they pull apart. Her cheeks flame. His face slackens, body rigid as his arms fall to his sides, and he stands to attention.

The maid scurries to my door, picks up a tea tray, and curtsies. "I was told to let you rest. I hope that was right."

A third mind moves towards us, appearing around the curved balustrade at the end of the corridor. Diaphanous blue cloth obscures all but the woman's heavy-lidded eyes. She carries a basket, and I have the sense she's been waiting for me.