Page 46 of Keeper of the Word (The Unsung and the Wolf Duology #2)

Chapter

Forty-One

ELANNA

L ady Wenonah was an elegant woman. Elanna sat with Wenonah, her four ladies-in-waiting, and Tara over early afternoon tea. The betrothal ceremony would take place in one hour’s time.

Wenonah held her cup as though it were a delicate flower. They had waited some time for Queen Ferika, but she had not yet arrived.

Taking tea with anyone was unusual, but sitting with Wenonah, who hadn’t the least bit idea that Tara and Elanna worked against her betrothal, was most awkward.

A messenger had brought the invitation early this morn. It had not come from Wenonah, who’d arrived late last night, but from the sovereign. There was little option but to accept.

It had always been Tara who’d received audiences at Aura Hall, and as Elanna watched her speak about utter nonsense, she felt both relieved that this was not part of her role and jealous that she was obviously more out of place.

In spite of her discomfort, no one seemed to notice.

The ladies-in-waiting said not a word, imparting only covert side glances.

Two appeared as though they might burst with anticipated gossip about meeting not one but two StarSeers.

When Elanna gazed at them head on, she heard their future prattle in her mind.

A slight smile crossed her face. She ought to thank them for their future compliments, and then watch in amusement as their heads spun. Mayhap ’twas good to have this distraction after last night.

Shroud Magic. Her neck tingled.

The door opened, and through the doorway, entered the Queen of the Capella Realm.

Everyone stood and curtsied. Queen Ferika was a thin woman with greying brown hair and sharp, dark eyes.

Elanna sensed that she’d sized up everyone in the room in one sweeping glance.

When the queen stood in front of Tara, she raised her head to meet the queen’s eyes.

“Lady Tara, glad I am to see you. I hope you and Lady Elanna will forgive my absence from the audiences you’ve had with the sovereign. I find I am catching up on many a happenings here.”

“Your Majesty, ‘tis an honor.”

Queen Ferika sat in the empty chair covered with green silk and with a higher back than the rest in the room. Her focus found Wenonah; no one moved until the queen had roved her eyes from the young woman—her cheeks in full bloom—to the waiting cup a servant held out to her.

“Forgive my tardiness. I found this morning there was much to attend to.”

“’Tis quite all right, Your Majesty,” Wenonah said, her voice cracking as her delicate grip tightened on her tea cup.

The queen’s only reply was to give a curt nod.

“Such a beautiful room,” Wenonah commented, gesturing to the finery that graced the mantle, tables, and corners.

“Aye,” the queen said, taking a sip. “I expect you’ll want a tour later of the entire castle.”

“That would be lovely of you, my queen.”

“Not by me. Surely not. But I can arrange it.” The queen gave her cup back over to the servant, who seemed to instinctively know it was time to take it from her .

Silence entered the room. Elanna didn’t know what to say, and the others seemed unsure whether or not to speak.

“And how was your journey?” Tara finally broke the silence.

Wenonah grimaced before smiling and saying that it had been agreeable.

The queen’s eyebrow cocked. “Was it?”

“Of course, Your Majesty. Nothing of consequence.”

“You speak falsely,” the queen said. “Tell me.”

If Elanna wasn’t feeling so terrified of the queen—she had to admit she was beginning to feel pity for Wenonah—she would be impressed. The queen could read an expression.

A ripple of woe snaked down Elanna’s spine. A kernel of some future for Queen Ferika meant to bruise Elanna.

Correction. She thought. Bruise the realm.

She shook it off.

“’Twas nothing, Your Majesty. Nothing to concern yourself?—”

“Hold your tongue. I am the Queen of the Capella Realm. All matters in the realm concern me. And if you are to be the next queen, you might consider those words carefully.”

Wenonah sought her hands in her lap. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. ’Twas a conflict on the borders of Firthdale and Preyton.

Scores of men fought. ’Twas at a distance, but a village burned, and I am certain that what I witnessed were…

bodies lying in the meadow.” She met the queen’s eyes.

“’Twas frightening and agonizing. I’ve ne’er seen anything of the like. ”

The women were quiet. The queen, too. Her demeanor was measured.

Elanna puzzled over her expression: a mask of repose, but underneath a deep worry and a confirmation of sorts, mayhap?

The sovereign must have informed his queen of what Griffith had let slip.

Skirmishes. Malcontents. Upheaval not meant to exist in the Capella Realm.

The queen swept pointed looks at the StarSeers.

She wishes to know if we’ve Seen this .

The door opened again, and the steward appeared, dressed in ornate amber-colored livery. The ruffle of his collar and gleam of the golden thread left naught to the imagination that this was a special occasion.

“’Tis time, Your Majesty.”

Queen Ferika nodded and rose, carrying with her the whole of the room to their feet.

Wenonah pursed her lips and creased her brows. Not so elegant now, ’twould seem.

The group sauntered through the maze of corridors, the queen setting the pace.

After the queen, four of her queensguard, Elanna and Tara, Wenonah, trailed by the ladies-in-waiting, Joss and Barrett, Sir Goodsell and his men, all of whom had waited in the corridor during tea.

The stroll was somber, and they were met with a number of castle guards saluting or upper servants bowing.

They turned a corner, and far down the opposite corridor, Elanna spotted two familiar persons. The first made her heart jolt, and she stiffened her jaw against it. Hux. The second made her crane her neck to take another gander, for she clearly detected that Hux argued with the other. Daved.

Elanna scratched the back of her neck, craning her head as she passed in the hopes of observing more. But the party continued, and there was naught more she could do now.

The remainder of the procession to the Great Hall was spent fighting curiosity. At one point, Tara gave her an elbowed nudge. If they could only StarSpeak. But without any open sky above, ’twas impossible.

Mayhap ’twas not as I observed.

There was no more considering it, for they now stood in a line in the center of the Great Hall. The queen stood to the left of Wenonah, as was tradition. A sign that the Lenforese-born queen blessed the next sovereign’s spouse, born of Grenden.

Elanna couldn’t cage the fear that fluttered. Did the future include Wenonah standing someday next to a maiden of Lenfore? She loosed a sigh. What could be done now?

The sovereign sat upon his throne on the dais hedged by his council members, Griffith to his direct right. King Rian gripped the arms of his throne. He did not appear joyous .

To the right of the dais stood an older nobleman who Elanna assumed was Wenonah’s father, Lord Ulara of Norcliffe.

He, too, had an entourage in tow. Lining the hall, shoulder to shoulder, were gathered more courtiers and visitors than Elanna could count.

Many could not resist a gape at her and Tara, quick or otherwise.

Against the walls, at attention, were the Warins and a host of castle guards.

The Great Hall had ne’er seemed so crowded.

Stars, how many people were needed to sign and seal a betrothal contract?

The only person who was missing—and noticeably so—was Prince Dashiell.

He cannot still be locked in his rooms?

Tara cast a worried gaze onto Elanna. This was all wrong. Like Elanna, she, no doubt, prickled and pined for an outcome different than what was about to transpire.

But ’tis still better than using Shroud Magic.

Could the realm still be safe with Dashiell wed to Wenonah? Elanna burned her eyes into the woman until Wenonah noticed and shot back an uncomfortable glance.

And what of Dashiell’s happiness? The thought, though involuntary, rang true. Elanna had grown fond of Dashiell. What had begun as merely a desperate venture to secure the realm now seemed a divided goal. Aye, the realm was first, but did not Dashiell’s happiness matter?

You think this because you know your happiness will ne’er matter.

’Twas a hard realization.

The pomp and circumstance of the entrance of the prince’s betrothed died down. Chancellor Griffith unrolled a scroll and began to read the history of the millennia-long tradition of the twin kingdoms being wed together. Elanna quickly lost interest.

At first, Wenonah’s sideways glances were discreet, but soon, she was openly sweeping her eyes around the Great Hall. For the prince. Why had they begun the ceremony without him?

Elanna gave a backward glance at the enormous, closed doors behind them. Why, indeed ?

Griffith wound down his historical speech and paused for a moment to take a second scroll in his hand.

“Your Majesty.” The words that interrupted the beginning of Griffith’s new speech—this one intended to be centered on Dashiell and Wenonah’s betrothal—were Tara’s.

Small babbles from around the hall gave her interruption emphasis.

“Where is the prince, Your Majesty?” Tara stepped forward. “He should be here to meet his bride if this betrothal is your wish.”

Elanna’s eyes widened. The sovereign seethed. She turned her gaze to Queen Ferika, who was not glowering, as she assumed she would be, but observing Tara with her lip half turned up.

“Where, indeed?” Queen Ferika said.

The murmurs grew louder.

“Prince Dashiell is within. This betrothal ceremony shall take place by proxy,” King Rian said, unsmiling.

For the first time, the queen lowered her eyes. Even still, Elanna sensed her rage. Next to the queen, Wenonah’s eyes welled with confused tears.

Griffith resumed, “By the decree and will of His Majesty, King Rian the Sixth, of the House of Sidra and by?—”

“Why, Your Majesty?” Elanna hardly believed the voice to be her own. “Why is this betrothal by proxy? Should not Prince Dashiell be here himself to show the realm of his consent?”

She did not retreat from King Rian’s glare.

Stars, what was she doing? The sovereign scowling at one of his StarSeers? The two roles were e’er in harmony. There was no future for anyone if they were at odds.

And now you understand why the stars showed you thus.

A few of the council members mumbled in the sovereign’s ear while along the hall’s perimeter, whispers turned into chatter. King Rian’s hands curled into fists; his expression tightened.

The queen spoke to her queensguard. “Bring my son.”

King Rian stood. “Ferika,” he called down to his queen. “Let us take leave in my solar.”

The queen raised her chin. Two of her guard exited the Great Hall. The crowds swayed in an attempt to gain a better view. Phrases like, “What is happening?” and “Is the queen defying the sovereign?” escaped the otherwise garbled din of the hall. Elanna’s palms began to sweat.

“Mayhap you should, my queen?” Tara quietly spoke.

“Nay.”

The chatter escalated. Elanna met Joss’s eye. The dame was the very essence of worry. Her expression pleaded with Elanna. Keep the peace. Find a way out of this. She gave a slight shake of her head to Joss, no inkling of what to do.

Beside her, Tara shouted over the crowd, “Your Majesty, I implore you to empty this hall. Your Majesty!”

The steward dashed through the open double doors. His hurried rush quieted the masses as he made his way up the dais stairs. Griffith stepped aside with obvious annoyance as the steward bowed to speak to King Rian.

“Oh stars,” Elanna whispered.

Mayhap it was the amber color of his livery or the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the stained-glass window, catching the crimson and tinting the sovereign’s face with red. In that moment, the recesses of Elanna’s mind released a vision she’d Seen but knew not when.

The fortune of the prince. Dashiell at a crossroad.

King Rian barred his son’s path with an unbearable toll thrust upon the prince.

The sovereign had one chance. One choice.

And he had to make the right one, or the bond between them would be snapped in twain and would ne’er be repaired.

And then Tara and I shall have no choice.

The reflected stained-glass sunlight played tricks then.

Elanna cocked her head as it skimmed across the council members’ faces.

Nay, they could not appear shadowed? ’Twas not right.

She blinked rapidly and found the red hue discolored them, too.

A simple scheme of her vision clouded by her own worry, nothing more.

“Your Majesty!” Elanna shouted, the full weight of her vision and the urgency of everyone’s future making her knees buckle, “Do not—” ’Twas the only words she could utter. Joss caught her from behind, preventing Elanna from crashing to the marble floor.

People were suddenly everywhere. Voices were laced with dread. The pattering of feet moving through the hall or out the doors. Too many things happened at once.

She knew what the steward’s words would be. But it took a moment for her mind to catch up and for her ears to hear them.

“Dashiell is missing.”