Remnant of Power

Chapter Twelve

Yavenna

Yavenna was awake. Her eyelids felt like they were made of lead, but she'd been tossing and turning for at least a couple hours. Nightmare images of birds' skulls, the King's filthy doublet and the mage's eyes had splintered her sleep and left her heart racing. She sat up and grabbed her pillow, hugging it. Goodness, this castle was so shockingly dreadful. She'd never even dreamt that anywhere like this could exist.

A beam of moonlight shone through the heavy drapes onto a table where she'd left a quill pen and a sheet of paper, ready to write a letter to her father. Before she fell asleep she'd been trying to mentally compose a letter to him, confessing her involvement with the slaves, and throwing herself on his mercy. But about an hour ago, she had the shattering realization that it would be a waste of time to write it. Who would take the letter? The soldiers from Tarhasta that had accompanied her to Arvad had all been sent back to Tarhasta, except for Torrehon, Sharva's fiancé, who had been taken on as a guard by the King. She couldn't send him, she didn't like him very much; she didn't trust him, despite how Sharva felt about him, and it would cause too many questions. What if Ulric wanted to know what the letter was about? Biting off her one remaining nail, Yavenna faced the awful truth. There was no one who could take a letter to her father. She was stuck here.

Yavenna squinted at the grandmother clock that stood by the door. Three o'clock. Well, she definitely couldn't sleep. She may as well have a look around the castle to see if she could find out anything useful. She could have another look for Mal's dog – perhaps he was in a bedroom instead of a dungeon. Slipping on a gray silk bed robe, she pulled her hair out from the collar of it, and pushed her feet into the matching soft velvet slippers. At least they wouldn't make a noise on the stone floors. She picked up a candle from on top of a bookcase, then put it down again. She couldn't risk lighting it. Pulling the chair away from door, Yavenna opened the lock. But as she walked in to the next room she twisted round and grabbed the dagger she'd left on the bed. It might be useful - goodness knows, there were enough strange creatures in this castle.

In the corridor, Yavenna listened. A breeze blew down from an open window in one of the upper storeys. There was the sound of distant snoring. She stood for a few minutes just listening, her fingers rubbing the handle of the dagger. Was this a good idea? Nothing in this castle was a good idea. Well, so long as she didn't meet the King, she might be alright.

She walked to the stairs and tiptoed down them. There was no sound of snoring on this floor. She tried a handle and opened a door. It was a bedroom, but there was no one in it, and hardly any furniture. Definitely no dogs. The next room was a small library. She walked in and looked around. There were only bookshelves, not even a cupboard. Once back in the corridor, Yavenna stopped and listened. There was a funny, musty smell, but no noises. She opened the next door. A sickly smell wafted out into the corridor.

(This bit shouldn't be in bold - sorry not able to change it!)

Instead of following the stairs to the next floor where her suite was located, Yavenna turned and faced the corridor she'd hidden in yesterday when she eavesdropped on the King. There were no guards to be seen. She tiptoed along the corridor till she reached Ulric's study and pressed her ear against the door. She couldn't hear a single sound from inside. Taking a deep breath, she twisted the handle and slithered in through the opening before she changed her mind.

Her heart beating like a sewing-machine treadle, Yavenna scanned the room. It was a large study, dominated by a huge desk in the middle. But there was a lot of room around it, and various mirrors and enormous cupboards covered the walls. There was a large painting of the King wearing an ornate crown and his mask and an ermine trimmed robe. He looked significantly younger and thinner, and had no beard, but the picture of him still made her shudder. A plate and goblet stood on a tray at one end of the desk and the room reeked of his horrible minty smell.