Hazel couldn’t help feeling the embarrassment of this. “The prophet says it was a fluke…” She did not add he said it would return one day.
“Oh, I’m sure it was. We all toss poor boys about like rag dolls from time to time.”
Hazel felt her face redden for the third time that evening. It was beginning to grow far too hot for her.
“But how is your dear little criminal friend?” Dianna started in again. “Have the two of you been plotting his escape so you can finish what your parents started—”
“Dianna!” Armond admonished. “You are being most unfair. Really, this behavior does you no credit whatever.”
Dianna rolled her eyes. “Armond, you are so naïve. She almost killed you.”
“She did not,” he replied. Looking to Hazel, he added with a wink, “Always wondered what it would be like to fly.”
Hazel held no hope of concealing the grin that beamed from her face.
“How can you smile, knowing your little compatriot is locked away in our dungeon,” Dianna pressed. “Really, I cannot for the life of me imagine why King Zephuel allows you to remain here.”
Armond physically stood between them. “I won’t hear any more of this, Dianna. Just walk away.”
Dianna chortled with her ladies, but her smile dropped as he crossed his arms, awaiting her submission.
“Why… is that an order, my prince?” she teased weakly.
It was a moment before he nodded as if it had never occurred to him what a command from him, the heir to the throne, might mean.
“As if she’s worth it anyway,” the girl muttered, trotting away as slowly as possible in a feeble effort to prove it was of her own volition.
Armond turned to Hazel then and bent over her, his hands resting on the arms of her chair. “Are you quite all right, Lady Hazel?”
No, she was not all right. She was breathless. She gulped. “I, that is, er, yes, I am all right… or I will be.”
He sparkled a smile down at her and stepped back. “Always the trooper. But it seems to me you’ve had a rough time of it lately. Tell me, how was your journey to the southern tribes?”
“O-oh… it was pleasant, actually. I’m afraid we in the north have labeled them falsely.”
He folded his arms. “I am surprised to hear that. Have you told my uncle of this?”
Her mouth nearly dropped open that he thought she possessed knowledge pertinent to the king. “I have not,” she murmured, eyeing him speculatively. It was queer how similar his treatment of her was to his uncle’s. But Armond’s attention was not born of fear. It was his nature and it was why she cared for him.
“There you are,” a voice that made Hazel cringe sounded from the doorway. Just as she’d feared, it was Duke Frederick marching toward her. “I must speak with you about the accusations you put to me if you don’t mind.”
But Hazel did mind. That she should ever have to speak with such a gentleman again made her ill. She was certain all the rose that had entered her face from talking to Armond was flushed out now.
“I am afraid Lady Hazel must retire early,” Armond intervened, standing between them as he had with Dianna. “She is of a frail disposition, you see, and must often do so. Lady Hazel, shall I see you out?”
Floating on a cloud, it was all she could do to nod. Without further ado, he helped her to her feet and had her whisked from the room before Fredrick could bat an eye.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Armond said when she was free. “I couldn’t bear to see you forced to speak to such a brute, especially when you appeared so discomfited by him.”
He had noticed her discomfiture at the table? “Then you have heard of the reward he offers?”
“Who has not? I’m afraid he will have no luck here.”
“If anywhere. I was forced to sit with him at banquet. He is a true fiend.”
“Well, if the patient Lady Hazel cannot bear him, I shall not attempt it. Shall I see you too your rooms?”
“Oh, er, no. That is, it is very kind of you to offer, but I am accustomed to making my way alone.”
“So, I’ve gathered,” he replied with another of his quick smiles. “I bid you good evening, my lady.”
* * *
It was all Hazel could do to stop her head spinning as she lay in bed. Such a chaos of emotion raged through her: anger, humiliation and then such joy and… love. She was hopelessly and endlessly in love with Armond. How very kind he was—so thoughtful and observing. No one but the prophet treated her as he did.
And then there was the wicked, awful, hateful duke of Galfree. What if her guardian should force her to meet with him again? Or worse, to be civil toward him, even affirming to any proposal of marriage he may make. After all, he was desperate.
But she would never acquiesce to such an offer. She would run away without a moment’s hesitation if it were forced on her. To the south, she would run—away from him, Lady Nora, Dianna, the king, the entirety of the court… Dorian. She sat up. She wanted to go, to escape the place that had of late been so difficult to cope with, even more than in all the years past. Everyone was against her but for such a very few: the prophet and… Armond.
Oh, to be forced to run from him made her ill. Yet, she found it did not stop the racing of her heart as she thought out a plan of escape. It had been easier in years past. She used to manage to get by unnoticed, to hide away in her nooks and crannies. She’d been everyone’s little helper, but a helper no one really cared existed. It had been agreeable enough… but things had changed.
But how would she ever get to the tribes? She had no horse that belonged to her. She was not the best rider, anyway. She knew nothing of traveling, possessed no coin nor any sense of direction. She’d had no idea how helpless she was until this moment. Always, others had come to her for help with their chores and projects. She’d felt herself capable and it had given her a sense of purpose. Now, she saw how little she could help herself.
A weight lay upon her that not even memories of Armond’s treatment could lighten. She felt herself sinking, sinking, sinking. Something must give or she would lose her grip… on sanity, perhaps. There must be some way to be free of the misery of accusations made against her of late. There must be someone she could turn to.
It came to her—the sensation she’d had upon leaving The Mirror so many days past. She recalled how light and burden-less she’d felt. She simply must be allowed entrance again. Now the thought had gripped her, she considered sneaking in that night. But it was forbidden to enter again without express permission from the king himself.
10
Hazel stood before the door to King Zephuel’s study. He was famed for disliking interruptions here, but she had no choice. Lady Nora would never help her gain an audience with him. She must take her chance. She lifted her fist… and knocked.
There was a shuffling of papers and the clearing of his throat before he inquired, “Who is it?”
“It is Lady Hazel, Cousin Zephuel.”
A moment’s silence followed before the door was opened to her. “Cousin Hazel, I am surprised to see you. Won’t you come in?” He was neither so warm as in their prior meeting nor so harsh as when she’d been summoned to his throne room. She took comfort in both these factors.
“Your majesty, I will come to the point,” she said as she accepted the chair proffered to her. “I beg a second visit to The Mirror.”
He sat down across from her. “The Mirror… a second time?” He appeared to be deliberating as he reorganized the parchment before him. “Lady Hazel, I… I cannot begin to tell you how disappointed I was in your friendship with the traitor.”
She gulped. Would it cost her the visit? “I can never convey how dreadfully sorrowful I am that I was fool enough to be taken in by him. I wish I could make you understand how much I would never wish you or this kingdom harm.”
He looked at her with surprisingly vulnerable eyes, then released a sigh. “I believe you, Hazel.”
She cast he
r gaze to the desk. He had used no title before her name. This was something only close family members practiced. But she looked up to find his face had hardened again.
“Even so, you must realize I cannot be showing you favor after what has been revealed.”
She held her breath. To her horror, a tear streamed down her face, followed by another. She tried and failed to regain her composure as she said, “Don’t you see it is why I feel I must go there? Everything…” She sobbed. “Everything’s falling apart. I have no one.”
Clearly softening, he drew his chair around the desk to sit beside her. “But why would visiting the mirror room help you? Most find it very unpleasant.”
“Yet, none actually recall what occurred within,” she said, sniffing as her tears slowed. “I emerged from it refreshed and strengthened.”
He raised a brow. “Do you recall your experience?” She couldn’t tell if it was curiosity or accusation with which he inquired, as if she possessed some other power he might fear.
“No, but I know the one who dwells within must be… wonderful.”
He released a quick breath and turned away from her, rubbing at the back of his head.
“What is it, your majesty? Have I spoken irreverently?”
“Oh, it is nothing… nothing that concerns you.” He turned back to her suddenly, as if grasping at something she may possess. “I have gone there many times… I leave with nothing. Nothing at all since my first appearance as a young man—just emptiness, as if nothing and no one has taken interest in me, as if the Great Entity has turned his back on me.” He caught himself and appeared almost to regret the admission. Even so, he continued, “But… you met him?”
Hazel considered. She had not even realized it was meant to be the Great Entity. All she recalled were the keeper’s words: Mind your thoughts in there. He can hear them. “I must have.”
“Then…” Here, he paused. “Will you ask him something for me?”
“Of course, anything… But I cannot promise to remember the answer.”
He rifled for something in his desk, then pulled out a parchment upon which he wrote a swift note. He then packed it, along with quill and ink, into a small satchel. “Take this and come out with an answer.”
Disoriented, she accepted it along with a signed document to allow her the second visit.
Swiftly, she strode through the corridors. For the first time in her life, she was on a mission for the king. He had chosen to confide in her, depend on her for an answer from the very god of their land. She hoped beyond hope the one within was the sort of entity that one dared ask questions of and further hoped she would actually be allowed to take his answer down on paper. After all, hadn’t others thought to attempt such a thing before?
Showing her pass to the keeper, the woman raised a brow at her satchel. “It is against Kierelian law to take anything in with you.”
Hazel froze. “Oh, but I…”
“You are extremely fortunate to have been granted express permission.”
She relaxed. He must have included it on her pass.
Entering the room, it was peculiar to know she’d spent time there, yet remember so little about it. It struck her how dim and bare it was but for the large woven carpet in the center. Setting down her satchel, she gazed nervously about.
“Great Entity?” she whispered.
Had he even been present when last she’d been there?
“Great Entity?” she tried again.
With no response, she turned to the carpet again. A depiction of a girl with singing symbols floating from her mouth drew her. She bent closer to examine it and had just moved on to the dragon casting flame upon a poor king when a warm breeze brushed her face. She looked up. From where could a draft be coming in a windowless room? She made her way to the wall as the wind persisted. It came from between the cracks in the stone pieces. Her hand met warmth at the touch. She drew her hand away and scratched her head. It could not be that there stood a fireplace or even chimney on the other side, else she’d smell smoke.
She leaned against the wall, contemplating it, as an irregular peace filled her. It was as if it was born of the warmth. Slowly, she slid down the wall and sat upon the stone floor. Resting her head against it, she felt her eyes drooping. It wasn’t until a knocking at the door that startled her from her slumber that she discovered she’d wasted her chance. But the knock had sounded in a familiar rhythm and it was this that revealed what was cajoling her into serenity. The wind was omitted through the wall in a rhythm… like the beating of a heart.
The knocking at the door continued. Unaware of how long she had slept, she knew she must leave. But not only had she not received any kind of encounter to bring her comfort, she had not acquired an answer for her cousin. She raised her head. What had his question been? He’d written something down on the parchment within her pack. Removing it, she puzzled over its contents. It read,
Has your favor been lost to me forever?
Well, she had no answer for him, but she did have this thrumming wall. Perhaps whatever lay beyond would hold a kind of answer for them both. Scribbling on the note, she turned to face the exit. It was a shame to have so squandered her precious visit. Was the room’s Entity offended she’d dared to sleep in his chamber?
The feeling of all recent memory lost to her was no less discomfiting than the last time. Though she did not feel as light and free upon exiting as before, she did sense the embrace of peace. In fact, she might even be a little warm... perhaps too warm.
“We’ve other visits to be had today, missy,” the keeper reprimanded. “What could you possibly have been doing in there?”
“I cannot say…” she replied, wondering how much time she’d spent.
“Well, what does the note say?” the keeper asked with curiosity.
Hazel peered down at the foreign parchment in her hand. Seeing first the king’s writing, she realized this must have been his question. Peculiar. But underneath was her own writing.
“The room behind The Mirror,” she read aloud. She glanced back at the mirror room.
“The castle always changes it,” the keeper snapped. “Today, it’s just a pantry containing linens.”
Hazel raised a brow. “Well, I suppose I must but examine it. Down this hall?”
Following the woman’s direction, she drew before a plain wooden door. Opening it, she found, as promised, a pantry. Nothing out of the ordinary. Merely cold gray stone. With a shrug, she stepped out but was caught by the expanse of the corridor. This could not be the room behind The Mirror. There was too much space between where this wall came and where she was sure the mirror room’s wall ended. This pantry’s wall did not share that of the other.
For some time, she raced through corridors. In the end, she found there was no room behind The Mirror at all. Checking her parchment again, she discovered no further clue. How foolish she’d been not to give more details of this ill-begot quest.
“Good gracious, girl,” Lady Nora’s voice descended from behind her. “Where have you been all morning? I’d begun to think you’d run away to your woods without permission and was near sending a guardsman after you.”
“I apologize, Lady Nora. The king wished me to visit the mirror room. It seems I spent more time there than intended.”
“My brother wished it? I suppose he hoped the Entity would find some fix for your… vocal quandary.”
“It isn’t a problem yet, Lady Nora. The prophet said so.” How she wished the king had not insisted her guardian be among those who knew the claim of her cure was a falsehood.
“And yet, the prophet sent you south for training from your dreadful relatives. Tell me why he should do that if you are no longer the pebble in my shoe?”
“I suppose he fears it may return…” she said quietly.
“And there you have it. Something that requires fixing. In any case, I have a real treat for you. It seems Lady Stacia is having trouble with her needlework. Her mother requested a tutor and, nat
urally, I thought of your aimless little self. Come along.”
Hazel nearly balled up the parchment in her hands and threw it at her guardian. The last thing she needed this day was to be anywhere near Dianna. That included her cohorts. Stacia would take no lesson from her in any case. The girl thought her a pathetic halfwit. Even so, Hazel was aware of how equipped she was to aid anyone with their needlepoint. Through the years, Lady Nora had forced hours upon hours of it upon her until she had quite mastered it.
“I apologize for the wait, Lady Stacia,” Lady Nora sighed out as they entered the sitting room. “Lady Hazel’s been dillydallying again. I hope you will attempt to have an influence on her, won’t you?”
Stacia offered a cheerless grin but did not reply. This was her way, making her different from Dianna and Rebecca. They would have leaped at the chance to please the king’s sister. But Stacia was a clever, no-nonsense young lady… and about as arrogant as they came.
Taking a seat beside Stacia, Hazel leaned over to see what they had to work with.
“I beg you, take this mess from me,” Stacia groaned, casting it to Hazel.
“Mess” was the perfect word for what Hazel found in her hands. But with an experienced eye, she set to work untangling it, picking her needle through it with proficiency.
“If you moved that fast in everything,” Stacia said, “you might not be so late all the time.”
Hazel ignored her. Knowing Stacia, it wasn’t even meant as a gibe—just a fact. But the reason she was so often late was because Lady Nora volunteered her for things without telling her. Not once had she awoken to the reading out of an itinerary as other noble ladies did.
“What were you up to anyway?” Stacia inquired, though her tone revealed little interest.
“I was in The Mirror.”
“Really? Haven’t you already been through that ordeal?”
“I have.”
“Whatever took you there a second time?”
“I… was looking for answers.”
“And…?”
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