HEIR | The Cursed Monarchy | Book 1

Emergence: Part I, Chapter 4

Somehow, Cecily managed to keep a pleasant smile on her face all the while she served the remaining guests their drinks. Behind her façade, her mind worked furiously. Had Daire truly entered her mind? Had it been real? She felt the sore spot on her chin and knew it was.

After the feast, Cecily took the back stairway to the third floor of the servants' quarters and took an immediate right to search for her room. Gyra's instructions had been vague and the palace was so large and intimidating. So much so, that her chest grew tight as she crept down the long, poorly lit corridors. There were hardly any lighted sconces in those seldom-traveled halls. She took a breath, felt for the wall, and hurried on, silently counting her steps.

She paused at the end of the main corridor and then turned right again. Eerie laughter, too soft to make out any words, added to her sense of anxiety. She hurried down the passage as if she knew exactly where she was going, even though she was terrified some beast would emerge from the shadows. Then, when she reached the next intersection, she took a left. The room was supposed to be the last door on the right.

Slowly, carefully, she opened the door, stepped inside, then shut it, and leaned against the cool wood with her eyes closed. She'd finally made it. After a moment of quiet reflection, she opened her eyes and gathered the black drapery of her dress about her, walking toward a small, half-opened window where she could see the light from the streets below. Wagons and horses still clattered past, and the laughter from the carriages down the road came to her ears.

A form moved out from the clump of shadows and came forward to meet her. "Cleared your mind?" The sly prince Daire glided toward her with a soft, cat-like step. He studied her expression intently, and she tried her best to not cringe under such intense scrutiny. "How frightened you are. Did I startle you?"

Perhaps he expected the confused child he'd met long ago adorned with such innocent displacement. But all that would greet him this night would be a jagged resolve of flashing dark eyes returning his intense, unblinking gaze.

"No," she replied evenly.

Daire rolled his tongue along the inside of his cheek. "Why not?" he asked softly, almost intimately.

"Because you want me to be."

He laughed with a tone that seemed soft and pure. "Come, sit with me, then, if you're not afraid," he said, challenging her to take a seat beside him on the windowsill. "I can only stay a moment; they would come looking for me."

"And if they did? If they found you here?"

"Then I shall be disgraced before them all." There was something like triumph in his voice as if he was already accustomed to the notion of disgrace.

Cecily was filled with apprehension, and yet also with a strange joy at seeing him again. "Is it all that you imagined it to be? Ruling over a realm?" she asked with a measure of curiosity. "I imagine it's hard having to wear a mask to fit in. It must be painful."

"A plague on decorum; it's too degrading a garment for me," he said with a laugh which jarred upon her even more than his words. "I threw my mask away long ago."

"Then why have you sought me out?" she asked. "Though I'm glad you remembered me, I never planned on making such a fool of myself in front of the entire court. I'm not someone you should be seen speaking with at all."

"Yes, you are," he replied. To her surprise, their eyes met and locked; his in ferocity, hers in sheer trepidation. "Will you keep a secret?"

She nodded.

"Your kind is not born into magic. Can you imagine how strange it is to see a mere mortal of Maydale possess the same power as a noble of the Elder Court? You are far too young for all you have been forced to endure, and hence, as one would expect, you lack the knowledge needed to control your gift."