AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I will send an inquiry regarding their availability.”
The butler—Carver, he was called—explained that our suites had been appointed with our comfort and privacy in mind. Several maids milled about, tending the fire and dusting the luggage, as Carver explained the history of Highblade Palace and the amenities available to us.
I listened with half an ear, absently sipping the too-sweet juice. My gaze swept past the comfortable fittings to the domed windows, fixing on the Agnivale flag that flew proudly in the distance like a fleck of red against the dull blue sky. It was tethered to a tower that sat on slightly higher ground, providing a vantage point overlooking the villages in the valley.
“That would be the north wing of our palace,” Carver’s sonorous voice, right next to my ear, almost made me jump. “The residence of our dear Highblade family.”
“I’m aware,” I said, tracing the familiar brick structure with my eyes. Once, the north wing of Highblade Palace had meant carefree summers, warm winters, and a fortress against the demands of the world. It had been a safe cocoon for an anxious pre-teen, the home within filled with friendship and camaraderie andlove…
Iachedto see it again.
Once the idea took root, it was hard to shake off. It festered like a bad wound, filling my body with the ichor of nostalgia and memories better left buried.
The foliage in front of the large windows obstructed a full view of the north wing. I tried in vain to reposition myself but locked eyes with a member of my own guard who was stationed outside the private window. They bowed low while I glanced away hastily.
For propriety’s sake, I knew I had to make an appearance in the communal hall where many had gathered, but when Cryssa covered up a yawn with the cup of her palm and asked for a few minutes to rest, I decided introductions could be postponed to a later hour.
As Cryssa snoozed in our adjoining rooms, I slipped from the suite, conscious of the servants that milled around like little insects. I felt their eyes on me as I tugged a dark cloak over my shoulders, covering my likeness from other prying eyes.
Not right, not right, not right.
Instead of deterring me, the warning from my conscience only propelled me forward. I exited through the back of the palatial wing, pressing myself closer to the red bricks that lined the ground floor.
The four quadrants of the palace were joined in the middle by a courtyard and a service entrance, both of which I was familiar with. But I was only interested in one of them now—the service entrance that hid a passageway used by servants many years ago. Zoei and I used to zip in and out of them, pretending we were spies on a mission.
The passageways were narrow and short, like a neural network that had a never-ending combination of entrances and exits. One false step could drop you into the sewers—as I had found out all those years ago.
But the right path could also lead you to the north wing.
I followed the narrow flowering pathway, the sharp scent of citrus tickling my nose from the orange garden that now overflowed in the private courtyard.
The citrus trees were a new addition—or perhaps one that had been cultivated in the last twenty years. I constantly needed to remind myself that I didn’t know this place or its people as well as I thought I did in my own little mind-bubble.
The orange trees were quite charming, a perfect backdrop for mid-afternoon perambulations. Although situated at the heart of Highblade Palace’s overflowing quadrants, it held a distinct note of serendipitous peace. The noise of other guests had long since been left behind in favor of trilling birds and the leisurely buzzing of genial insects.
I used the low-hanging branches as a shield, glancing around the corner of the courtyard to see if the service entrance was in use.
A neat line of children spread from the entrance down a flight of stairs. Each of them balanced an oblong wooden cylinder on their heads, and I guessed that perhaps they were delivering wine or other alcohols from a local brewer. While I was not a proponent of child labor, I doubted these children were kept from schooling because of work. After all, the Brimwood legacy decreed that all children should be provided mandatory education until the age of sixteen.
I assumed these were entrepreneurial younguns who wished to earn a few extra coins from the coronation.
As I waited for them to deposit their wares and disappear, I picked a fallen orange from the base of the tree, ripping into it with my fingers. Juice squirted over my palms and chest, and I cursed, attempting to wipe it away with the sleeve of my oversized cloak.
The mound of ripe oranges gathered in the dirt indicated that the gardener had yet to make their rounds in the courtyard today. It wouldn’t surprise me if the full gardening team had been deployed to the royal rose gardens instead—the pride and joy of the Highblade clan. Zoei and I had had many summers of asinine fun by hiding behind rose bushes while our long-suffering nanny tried to keep us in check.
Lost in the dirt road of memories, I was surprised to find the service entrance was clear when I looked up again. I dropped the peels back into the earth and swiped my palms across the cape, pulling the hood up securely around my face.
“Hello?”
My spine stiffened at the voice that carried the gentle tremor of age.
“Who goes there?”
The words were slow and deliberate, each syllable carefully chosen and pronounced with care. It was a voice that had seen generations come and go, a voice that had whispered secrets to the wind and sung lullabies to sleeping children.
“Nanny Matilda?” I ventured.
Speak of the devil!
