Reyr the Gold (Dragonwall Series # 2)

Chapter 5 - The Society

Kastali Dun

Claire's eyes flew open as blazing sunlight streamed into her room, disorienting her. Her sleeping chamber was doused with blinding brilliance. "Wake up, sleepy." Reyr threw open the remainder of the chamber's thick curtains. She could do little more than groan and throw a pillow over her head...then the blankets...then sleep...

"No friendly greeting?" The corner of her bed suddenly sagged under his weight.

"I'm too tired to get up," she slurred, hiding in the darkness. "Just a little longer." That was all she needed, just a little longer. After a full night of sleep, she was still tired. But...why? Was she getting sick?

Her sluggish memory drifted over the previous night slowly...then faster. Memories of magic swam into her consciousness. She had performed magic, real magic! The idea made her bolt upright into a sitting position. She rubbed her bleary eyes.

"Excellent! You have changed your mind! Welcome to the world of the living." Reyr rose from the corner of her bed and tossed something at her—a chemise and gown that had been draped over a nearby chair. "Get dressed. You're still wearing what you wore last night. And, you already missed the morning meal in the hall."

"Who cares? I'm not hungry anyway. I'd rather sleep."

"Would you rather sleep than meet the Grand Mage and begin your training?"

"What?!" she shrieked, jumping from her bed. "Why didn't you say so earlier?"

Reyr shrugged with nonchalance. His toothy grin abolished any guilt. When he was satisfied that she was up for good, he turned on his heel and left the bed chamber, shutting the door behind him.

She removed her gown and went into her bathing chamber. It was a blessing that the castle had some semblance of modern technology in the form of plumbing; this was used for their bathing pools to keep the water warm and circulated, almost like a hot tub. The toilets, however, weren't nearly as sophisticated; they were merely pit toilets, so the waste dropped down chutes and out of sight to some unknown place.

With haste, she bathed and dressed before entering the living area of her quarters. A tray of food sat on the table. Reyr sat beside it, picking at it, waiting for her.

She smiled and rushed over to grab a bowl of porridge. "No time for that," Reyr said. "Grab something for our walk. We must be off."

She offered him a scowl before plucking up two bread rolls, which she stuffed into her mouth in a very unlady-like way.

Reyr escorted her through the keep. As they went, he explained the sudden change in her circumstances. "I spoke to the king last night," he said. "He agrees that your training must begin straight away—if you are ready for it."

"You know I am, as I told you last night."

"Aye, I know." There was a long silence before Reyr said, "I should add—just so you know—that His Majesty visited Marcel late last night. He rarely does that. He wanted to ensure that your training began immediately simply because you wished it to."

She frowned. "I'm flattered that King Talon is so concerned. I didn't think he cared."

"He cares more than you would guess," Reyr said. She glared at him, which made him casually shrug and add, "Maybe he is trying to make up for...you know..."

"Oh! Don't get me started on that. You know where I stand on—"

"Yes, yes. Nothing beats a genuine apology, believe me, I know exactly where you stand on that."