Once Upon a Castle - Jill Gregory [132]
“But…majesty!” Zonel protested.
She stopped him with a look. “There is no need for me to accompany you further. You have your orders from Cador. Meanwhile, I have other matters to which I must attend.”
Zonel could only watch helplessly as the woman he was sworn to protect and defend vanished in the opposite direction. If his royal mistress came to any harm and he himself survived, Cador would roast his liver on a spit!
Lector sat alone on the dais in the great hall, watching the revelry unfold around him. The huge rubies in the eyes of the dragon’s head carved upon the back of the thronelike chair winked as if they were alive. A servant filled his emerald-studded goblet with more wine, and he lifted it for a drink. The waiting had stretched his nerves like wires. He could feel them like sharp prickles beneath his skin. All the years of planning and scheming had come down to this moment. If Rill’s plot succeeded, it would be a moment of great personal triumph. If not…
Then Rill brushed aside the curtain at the side of the dais and joined him. “All is well, my lord,” the magician purred. “The fair little mouse you wished to lure to your hand has taken the bait!”
Setting down his goblet, Lector rose. “Excellent work, Rill. I shall spring the trap myself.”
Tressalara made her way along the passage quietly. Two more turns to the right and she should be in the space between the castle’s outer wall and the royal apartments. Ahead, a small ray of light pierced the darkness, and she smiled. She had not forgotten her way through the rocky maze. That light was a peephole into the corridor. She peered through it.
In the smoking red glare of torchlight, two guards flanked the door that led into her late father’s quarters. She moved softly down the hidden passage in search of a second peephole that looked into the apartment’s central chamber. It was usually closed off for privacy by an embossed medallion on the other side, but she caught a glimmer of light, showing it was unblocked. She was almost afraid to look through it to see Lector’s things in place of her father’s, to let grief and other emotions cloud her judgment.
When she steeled her courage, she was startled to discover that nothing had changed. The famous battle sword of King Varro I hung from the wall between the tall casements, as it had for two centuries. The same tapestries of lords and ladies a-hunting still hung upon the walls. The same two high-backed chairs, carved with the royal arms of Amelonia, were pulled up to the table where she and her father had once played at games of wit and strategy. A pang of longing for simpler, happier times smote her to the core.
But she must not dwell on the past when her country’s future was at stake. Sliding the well-oiled latch aside, Tressalara stepped into the chamber. Unseen, two sleek rats slipped past her booted ankles and wiggled their way into a rolled-up rug along the wall. Two pairs of bright button eyes watched the princess from the safety of their hiding place.
The panel slid closed noiselessly behind Tressalara. Without pausing, she went straight to the hearth. The dragon symbol of the royal house was carved deeply into the central stone block of the fireplace. She traced a finger lightly over the shape, as she had seen her father do, then reached just inside the mouth of the opening and touched a minute lever hidden there. The stone block slid outward with a faint groan.
She hadn’t expected it to be so heavy! It took all her strength to remove it. Dropping it would surely alert the guards outside the door. Tressalara set the block down upon the tabletop, then returned to the gaping hole. Pushing back her sleeve, she reached inside.
A sudden sound alerted her that she was no longer alone. She whipped around to find Lector standing in the open chamber door with several men-at-arms behind him. “Well met,