Whispers (Book 3 of Wielder series)

Chapter 17 - The Search

Darrel dropped onto Willy's balcony just after midnight. Even from this far on the other side of the palace, he could hear the swelling music of the orchestra playing in the Grand Ballroom and courtyard gardens. Though the celebrations had begun two hours before dusk, they showed no signs of slowing. There were more people in attendance when he'd left than when it had all begun.

   Despite his best efforts, he had been unable to talk the guard who made the schedules into giving him the day off. Because of the ball, every guard had to be on duty, and for even longer hours than usual. He'd originally been scheduled for a shift starting around dinnertime that stretched late into the early hours of the morning, but after a couple of bribes, he'd managed to trade shifts. It meant he would be stuck on a few overnight shifts, guarding a rather remote area of the palace, but it wasn't anything he hadn't suffered through before.

   As he knocked on the door to Willy's rooms, he lifted a prayer that this would be worth it.

   Willy answered almost immediately, letting him swiftly inside. "Evening," he greeted warmly, an excited smile lighting up his deep blue eyes. "Good to see you, again."

   Darrel looked the Wielder up and down. Willy had changed into an all black ensemble, perfectly outfitted for blending into the shadows. Light leather armor, also black, adorned his chest and forearms. A cloak as dark as night draped from his shoulders and swayed around his feet. As he shut the door, Darrel noticed an array of several knives lined up neatly along Willy's belt, sheathed proudly beside the Ultimate.

   Darrel whistled. "You look like you're on your way to assassinate someone."

   Willy snorted. "That would go against my oath as Ultimate Wielder."

   "I thought you already broke your oath as Ultimate Wielder."

   Willy's eyes narrowed.

   "No offense," Darrel quickly stated, lifting his hands in surrender.

   "Careful," Willy warned. He turned and stalked out of the bedroom, back into the well-lit space of his living area.

   Darrel followed cautiously. He hadn't known Willy long - at least, not the human version of him. Aside from the story of how he'd become a butterfly in the first place, he really didn't know him at all. Discovering he could paint had come as a surprise. Seeing his devotion to Justine over Alie had been equally surprising. Maybe he needed to be more careful with what he said.

   Willy moved to the center of the room. He'd moved all the furniture out, even rolling up the center rug and propping it in the corner. Only the garden portrait still hung on the wall, looking as vibrant and alive as he remembered.

   Darrel gestured to the emptiness of the room. "Changed your mind about the furniture?"

   "I didn't want them getting caught up with us when we teleported."

   "Has that happened before?"

   "It has." Willy shrugged. "My abilities have changed since I shed my wings. I'm still figuring out the details."

   Is that what he called his transformation? Deciding not to comment on it, Darrel stepped up beside him. "Should I be nervous?"

   A small, mischievous grin crept over Willy's lips. "Should you?"

   "No," Darrel quickly decided. "Not concerning you, anyway."

   Chuckling, Willy held out his hand. "Ready?"

   Darrel clasped it firmly. "Ready."

   "Don't let go."

   Willy closed his eyes. A moment later, the air around them began to crackle. Tiny specks of gold appeared in the air, magic's response to Willy's call. They brightened to an intensity that made Darrel duck his head and shield his face.