Shadelings

chapter ten

Constance

Last night was miserable; nadol doesn't always promise a happy hallucination under its influence. Instead of floral meadows and prancing unicorns, I received a painful nightmare. I can't remember what it was, but my body aches, and I'm still shaking. Noah isn't next to me like he was during the summer. He must be off training Nadalarina and being responsible. I guess I should try that for a change.

I rub my eyes and force myself to sit up on the wooden edge of my bed. It's sometime in the morning. The sun is barely above the cloud horizon, and there are a lot of clouds today. I guess it's raining down below. The penthouse in Hangman's Point has the most beautiful view in Alluum; I never see any rain or snow outside. Only clouds. And it's nice.

A silver tray sits on my desk by the window. Noah must have left me something. I slide off my bed and walk to the desk. I take the cover off of the tray to find a still-steaming cup of tea and a floating fruit cake of some kind. I just take the tea, wander into the next room, and sit the cup on the octagonal table. Three giant piles of folders an inch thick sit neatly organized in the center of the table.

“I have missions to give out,” I groan. I breathe in and focus fire on the candles around the room. They all light at the same time, bringing a dim glow to the windowless space. I sit down behind the giant stacks and grab a folder.

An illegal weapons dealer? Students can't go doing anything that dangerous yet. I set that one aside for myself and move to the next folder after taking a sip of tea. Family rivals, thieves of family heirlooms, a street vendor. Sometimes I wonder why people want such petty criminals dead and will pay almost any price for it.

But I guess I really shouldn't care.

“Not much in here for the foxes,” I mumble. My head is pounding, probably from not cracking open a bottle yet. I grab my empty cup, stand, and walk into the kitchen. The daily booze lined up neatly on the black countertop. I leave my empty teacup on the counter, exchanging it for a bottle of Tatian red wine, and walk back to my table. Before I can even uncork the wine, I hear a knocking at the door. Who could that be?

It's probably a student who needs hatchling help. Or maybe someone wants a room change. I set the dark bottle down next to a stack of envelopes and begin toward the double doors that open to the marble entry “foyer.” Brittany barges in as I reach for the handle of the first door.

The raven-haired, fat human intermediary head is holding a single envelope in her outstretched hand. She is trying, and failing, to hide a smug expression. I snatch the envelope from her. It's surprisingly heavy.

“What is so important that you need to deliver it in person?” I ask without bothering to keep my hatred for her out of my voice. It's too early for that. I walk away from her to find my letter opener.

“We haven't seen each other in so long, Constance!” Brittany says from her place by the door. She's too cheery.

“Eternity would be too short,” I say under my breath. I have no idea where my damn letter opener is, so I grab a knife off of the table and slice the envelope open. The paper inside is a heavy parchment. It's very formal; even the monarchs wouldn't waste good parchment on me. That can only mean... My heart catches in my chest, and my hands begin to tremble slightly.

I pull the paper out of the blank envelope. It's stamped with a slightly-smudged red Alluum seal—a dragon and unicorn locked in battle. The words are handwritten with care.

We regret to inform you... I skim the letter. Each word hurts with their lack of emotion or care. ...your husband, Xerdonis Gast Hund, died on the twenty-first of Dobrin, 4753DE.