Shadow Weaver (Back on Wattpad 2020!)

Chapter 32

The town of Lindy, nestled by a river, lies thirty miles from the Red City. Tomorrow, when we arrive at the royal court we will have made the two-week journey in eleven days.

The Duke and Commander Fror chose lodgings at the edge of the town, where there is a field for the men to camp. Through the window of my narrow room at the top of the inn, I watch Lindy men scurrying around, carrying great tubs into the field where they will be filled with hot water for the soldiers to bathe. The Duke has ordered the cook to find the town's finest caterers and bring a feast for his men with all the delicacies of Lindy. I see now how hard it must have been for Elise to lie to her husband. He is generous and well respected by the men. He tried to warn me about Lord Strik with no ulterior motive than my safety. He must think I'm ungrateful and simpleminded for ignoring his advice.

Sensing the minds at my open door, I turn. A young soldier enters with my trunk, followed by two girls barely out of childhood. They curtsey and stand back, eyes lowered, giggling and nudging each other as the Prince enters.

"These girls will help you bathe and dress for the evening meal and before we set out in the morning," Jakut says.

I nod. Without a maid to dress and undress me, I have worn my skin trousers and men's shirts for the last ten days. This is the Prince's way of telling me that tomorrow I am expected to ride in the cumbersome dresses of a lady.

"I must speak with you a moment, Your Royal Highness," I say. He indicates for the girls to leave and they bustle out curtseying.

Jakut's manner stiffens. He remains by the door, as though he cannot wait to escape.

"We need to talk about Lord Strik."

"I'm listening."

"His granddaughter is Lady Calmi, the young woman in the Red Court who you wished to marry. She is the reason your father sent you to the tundra to return with the Princess of Rudeash."

His jaw clenches, tiny muscles in the sides of his cheeks flexing as he grits his teeth. The anxiety he's struggled to conceal since our encounter with Lord Strik seems to spill across the room like an icy draught. I wonder what chills him more—that I accused him of sanctioning the slaughter of his own escort, or that he is starting to believe it?

"You have returned without the Princess, and your father no longer stands in your way. Lord Strik will want to see the two of you wed. If you present me to the Ruby Court as Lady Mirra Tersil from the north, who sat by your bedside bringing you back to health, and who has won your affection, you will position me as a direct rival to his granddaughter."

Jakut flexes and cracks his knuckles. "You believe Strik is dangerous and powerful enough to try to assassinate you while you are under my protection in the Ruby Palace?"

Protection? Captivity, more like.

"Your uncle certainly thinks so. He advised me not to accompany you to the Ruby Court. And Lord Strik is without a doubt the most dangerous man I have ever crossed. Something about his mind is unnatural. He could persuade a person to act against their better judgment. Against their own desire."

"Is this some dark art I have not heard of?"

"If it is, I have not heard of it before either."

"Lady Calmi's grandfather," he mutters. "This is why he knew me and gave us free passage through his lands."

The coolness in the Prince's general manner vanishes. From his breast pocket he retrieves a leather binding. He unfastens it and holds out a leaf of well-made papyrus paper. "Is this her?" he asks, stepping closer, hand unsteady so I have to take it to see properly.