Mist Rising by Eve Langlais
Chapter Forty-Six
Maric departedin the middle of the night, along with the King and some of the Elite. A squadron at least, and yet, not a single soul saw or heard anything. How did a group that size disappear without notice?
Had they left at all? If not, then she should have caught a sign of them.
No one had any news. With Maric gone and her exploration of the Citadel proving fruitless, her restlessness reached new levels. It led to her pacing and re-pacing the same halls, examining rooms she’d already gone through. Even counting steps to ensure the sizing within a space matched that without. Surely a structure this large had secret rooms or passageways.
By the fourth day, she started questioning her status with Maric. What was he hiding from her?
He’d sounded so grave. It had to be important.
Why did he have to say that and leave?
Agitated, she entered the Blessed wing and spoke with Belle, who was peeved that the King still had not seen her. Why did he hesitate to take her magic? What was he waiting for?
What did he do with it?
Agathe spent more and more time in the conservatory, running her hands over the statue, stroking and pushing at the stone to no avail. Listening for a voice. It wasn’t crazy if you knew for sure it was that of your Goddess.
She wanted to hit something so badly.
There had been no more attacks since their arrival at the Citadel. She wasn’t expected to stand guard. Or fight. She still flipped back her sheets, looking for critters, only to find flower petals keeping them smelling nice.
The surreal nature of it discomfited, as if they lived in the stillness before a storm. No doubt when it hit, things would get ugly.
It irked her that she could do nothing. At least when she lived at the Abbae, she had monsters to fight. Here…here she wandered or listened to Venna gush about all the stuff she’d been reading. None of it was useful yet. There was little about the last time the Kingdom had come under siege by monsters. Everything was wonderful under previous monarchs.
More striking and obvious than the omission of any strife was the lack of information on the Blessed. The few mentions claimed it was a noble and important thing. The ultimate service to the Kingdom. Nice way of trying to sell the fact that they stole people and drained them. Not bad enough they took the magic but they had to steal their youth, too.
Just look at the women in the Citadel. Not one of them could give her an age or tell her when they’d arrived. She’d tried. Asking them in different ways, trying to trick them into revealing something. But the staff remained tight-lipped as if they truly couldn’t reveal anything.
Why such secrecy? The question plagued Agathe.
Day five of Maric being gone found her more irritable than ever, which led to Hiix shadowing her.
“You need to calm your crazy eyes,” her Soraer muttered as they headed for the Hall of Learning.
“What are you talking about?”
“You are wound so tightly, you look like you’ll kill someone if they move the wrong way.”
“I’d probably feel better if I had something to hit,” she muttered. She’d tried training with the soldiers left behind. Her anger, and their inability to strike back at a woman, made them poor partners.
“I wonder how much longer before the King’s men return,” Hiix casually said.
“Who cares?” she lied.
“You do.”
“Don’t project your feelings onto me. I know you miss Baer.”
Hiix uttered a snort. “Not just me missing my lover. You’ve been irritable since the general left.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“It’s okay to like him.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Why not?”
“Because.” She paused before adding, “It’s complicated.”
“Relationships aren’t easy. Like anything in life, they require effort to work.”
“Relationship?” Agathe huffed. “We do not have a relationship.” He always left before the dawn. Never said anything to her about how he felt. Then again, neither did she.
“I am not discussing this,” she grumbled, taking longer strides to reach the art gallery first. She wanted to take another look at a painting. She paused in front of the depiction of a fantasy place, water falling from a cliff into a pool of the clearest blue. A creature like a horse drank from it, the horn on its head sparkling.
The canvas, at least a pace wide, appeared vibrant compared to some of the other images. Newer, actually. A gallery updated constantly?
A glance around showed every inch of the walls covered from floor to ceiling. No space remained for new art, and yet…spinning around, she saw more than a few recent pieces. All encased in thick frames. Oversized really compared to others.
On a whim, Agathe plucked the painting from the wall. The hook stared back.
“What are you doing?” Hiix exclaimed.
“I thought…” She went to move the painting back and felt more than heard something shift within the frame. Agathe placed it face down on the floor and pried at the wooden backing on the frame. A waste that wasn’t needed unless—
It came free, and a gasp escaped Hiix. “There’s another painting inside.”
Wrapped in a protective fabric film that revealed a very old image once peeled.
“Who is that?” Hiix whispered as they stared at the portrait of a man. Regal in bearing, the diadem across his forehead set with a stone. His armor gleamed gold, and his eyes shone blue.
Shoving to her feet, Agathe let her gaze rove around before she snatched another thick-framed painting from the wall. In a moment, she had another old picture. Hiix began to help. By the time they’d stripped them all, she had seven paintings in total.
Seven images that made no sense until they showed them to Venna.
