Reyr the Gold (Dragonwall Series # 2)

Chapter 26 - A Crack in the Wall

Kastali Dun

Claire was relieved with the king having gone away to Lincastle. His absence made everything feel more relaxed. Even the Great Keep seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. His presence no longer bothered her like it once did, but she wasn't yet at ease with him. Bumping into him accidentally made for awkward moments. The only thing she missed was her time with Reyr.

Desaree made things better, filling the gaps Reyr's company left behind. She was there for Claire's every need, not that Claire was needy. Desaree insisted on doing everything for her, even though Claire had managed okay before. Claire tried not to protest too much because she was happy to have a companion, and even happier that Desaree took such pride in her new position.

As her handmaiden, Desaree accompanied her everywhere with the exception of her magic lessons, which was a blessing for more than one reason. She wanted to keep her as far as possible from Miss Witch. She also wanted Desaree to have some time to herself.

On the fourth evening of the king's absence, a great storm struck Kastali Dun. Since Claire's arrival, it rained often to break the humidity, but never like this. After dinner, she and Desaree went out onto her balcony to enjoy the torrential sheets of rain and screaming wind, laughing and spinning with outstretched arms until they were drenched and dizzy. Despite the late summer's heat, they both required a hot bath afterwards.

Once Claire was comfortably settled in front of her fireplace, Des took her leave, mentioning something offhand about reading a new book Verath had lent her. With Desaree's departure, she sat alone, watching the fire crackle as she soaked up its warmth. It was a comfortable sort of night, with a glass of wine in hand, nestled within the protection of the castle.

The storm raged on throughout the evening.

Claire sat for a long time, lost in her thoughts, until something strange caught her attention—a brief movement next to the bookcase—yet nothing appeared to be there. After studying the wall for several minutes, slowly sipping her wine, she saw another movement. It was subtle; she would have missed it had she not been looking for it. On the second occurrence, her gaze narrowed; she was filled with suspicion. It appeared as if the wall had moved, but that was silly because the walls of the castle were made of rock. What she had actually seen was a ripple of fabric belonging to a giant wall-hanging that spanned the wall from the ceiling to the floor.

The walls of her living quarters were covered with these decorative hangings and tapestries. Most were landscapes. One in particular was of a prairie that stretched on to meet the sky, with khaki grasses and wispy clouds. It reminded her of home, and for that reason, she often found herself staring at it; sometimes she even got a little choked-up with her memories.

Her room wasn't the only one with wall hangings and tapestries. Most of the walls in the keep's nicer accommodations were outfitted the same way. It helped bring warmth to the appearance of the cold, ominous stone walls.

As the storm continued, Claire watched the strange effect of the fabric, subtle as it was. Every so often, just in one place between her bookcase and fireplace, the cloth fluttered. More than once she laughed inwardly at the thought of ghosts. Were there ghosts in Dragonwall? Probably not. Had the timing of the movements been any different, she might have explained it as something supernatural, but the timing was everything: Whenever a particularly fierce howl of wind slammed against the castle's walls outside, the fabric fluttered. It was then that a brilliant idea came to mind.

Claire got off the couch and set her goblet down, then she went to the wall and ran her hands along the fabric. Beneath it she felt the blocky stones that formed the foundations of the keep. She ran her hands along until she reached the edge of the wall hanging. Nothing felt amiss, but she wasn't convinced.