Duty-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book II ]

50

"That reminds me, Mhera."

"Hmm?"

After another day filled with endless questions, decisions, and problems—not least among them the problem of his feelings toward his wife—Matei had retired to the emperor's private drawing room to share an evening hour with Mhera. They had talked for a while about matters of importance and had gone over some correspondence together, and the stack of letters setting on the tea table had reminded Matei of the folder of visions he had uncovered so many weeks before.

When Matei looked at his wife, he was startled by the way the warm glow of the fire crackling in the hearth lit her features with hues of peach and gold, lending color to her face, which was normally so pale. The dark circles beneath her eyes, token of the sleepless nights and endless fatigue that seemed now to be their lot, were softened by the low light, and the curve of her lips was rosy.

She was lovely.

Giving him a questioning lock, Mhera raised her eyebrows in expectation. "What, Matei?"

"I, ah—" he said, closing his eyes with a laugh. "I'm sorry. I lost my train of thought."

"I think I'll take that, then," Mhera said, reaching for his cup of wine. She smiled at him as she held the crystal goblet up to the light. "Come, now, you haven't had that much, have you?"

"After this day, I think I would have been justified in sneaking a few glasses—but no."

Mhera sipped the wine, tilting her head. "You were saying something. I reminded you...?"

"Oh, yes." Matei rose to his feet and crossed the room toward Emperor Korvan's writing desk. His writing desk now, he thought. He had to continuously remind himself that the palace was theirs, the things in it were theirs. Around every corner, shadows of the Corpsemaker lurked, threatening to throw Matei and Mhera into shadow. They could not let him.

It was the work of just a moment to undo the magicked lock. He reached in and pulled out one of the leather folders, opened it just enough to ensure that it was the one he wanted, and then closed the drawer.

"What's that?"

Matei settled back into his seat, the folder resting on his knee, and looked at the unembellished cover reflectively. "I found this in Korvan's desk. I think it might be...useful. But I wanted to ask you about it first."

"All right. I can't say I know much about his papers, though, Matei. May I see it?"

Looking up to meet her gaze, Matei said, "I think you know quite a bit about these ones."

Mhera smiled and narrowed her eyes, clearly trying to work out what he meant. "I never..." And then, her colorless eyes, which had taken on all the brilliant points of light thrown off from the snapping hearth, went wide, and the expression of amused skepticism slipped from her features at once.

"You know what it is," said Matei, reading the recognition in her expression.

She looked down at the folder and set the wine glass aside. "They are my visions."

Matei nodded. He was about to explain his line of reasoning—how he thought there might be a wealth of information in those visions for them to pore through together, how they might uncover some wisdom that would help them with some of the challenges facing them—but to his surprise, Mhera's eyes filled with tears.

Alarmed, he asked, "Mhera, are you all right?"

"I'm sorry, Matei. I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Confused now, Matei set the folder of journal entries on the arm of his chair and reached for Mhera's hand. "Didn't know—?"