Chapter 13
Whispered Plans
Olivia was acting odd. It was the little things that were
different—nothing important, however . . .
During the following morning, the
castle’s royalty slowly awoke, whereas the servants, guards, stewards, and
Seers had been up before the sun. Theron sat at the dining table and listened
to the buzz of activity around him. It was the first day in a long while he did
not have to wear his sword, but he strapped it on anyway. Without it, he felt
naked and ill prepared. His food lay untouched as he watched Olivia drinking
from a horned cup. His mind spun with unsettling thoughts.
A half-eaten piece of venison lay on her plate, for she had said
mere bread and milk in the morning would never fill her. Her hair was up in
braids and wound in a blue veil. He wondered why she kept putting it up even
though he had told her, on the balcony in Crown Haven, that he enjoyed it down.
Customs, he reasoned; she had to follow them. But, he remembered that she
enjoyed her hair down as well.
“Are you all right, beloved prince?”
Theron turned and found Sobriina’s purple gaze studying him. He nodded and
turned away, wondering if he was the only one who noticed the new quirks of his
bride. It was as though she had forgotten herself and was somebody new. It was
strange, so very strange.
Why had she changed? Did the
attack in the forest make her . . . He had no word for it as he glanced at
his dear lady. Perhaps she was troubled by the blood and death she saw. She had
never seen it before; she would not know how to take in such an experience. He
must help her somehow. How could he distract her from the memories of Wraith’s
Hollow? The death of Nan. He sat for a long moment as he watched her.
She was so beautiful.
An idea lit his eyes and a smile spread across his lips. Elshender
noticed his sudden change in mood from across the table, but said nothing.
“Olivia,” Theron whispered and grabbed her hand. “I want to do something
special for you.”
She flinched at his touch, then smiled and took his hand. “Oh, a
surprise?” She clapped her hands giddily.
Theron’s jaw tightened. Her mouth
curved up in a grin, but her brown eyes were anything but smiling. He cleared
his throat and glanced away. “Yes, that’s what it is . . . a surprise. An hour
after your meal, meet me on the northern tower and go to its flat roof. I’ll be
waiting.”
“I’ll be there,” she whispered, her
scarlet lips pursed. Theron forced himself to keep his smile and stood. He
turned to leave, but stopped. His eyes narrowed. He looked back to Olivia and
stared at her, his head cocked at an angle. She laughed with Countess Primis
about something and took a huge bite of meat. He stepped forward, his eyes
locked on hers.
Olivia looked up at him and her smile wavered. “My lord?”
Theron said nothing as he peered into her eyes. Brown. They were
brown.
“My lord?” she repeated. Olivia looked to the others at the table
and giggled. “Has my beauty enchanted you, rendering you speechless, my
prince?” Countess Primis and a few of the other women laughed.
“Your eyes . . .” Theron pointed.
“They’re brown.”
Olivia nodded. “Indeed, as they have
always been.”
Theron blinked and shook his head. “No. They were—”
“Were what?” Olivia lifted her chin. “A different color? And how,
my lord, could that be?”
Theron, his mouth open, shook his head.
Olivia smiled and glanced back at her food. “I will meet you on
the rooftop in an hour or so, my lord.” She blew him a kiss.
Theron stared at her. “Why’re you calling me my lord?” he
whispered.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Theron bowed and walked out of the room. Once outside,
he stopped and ran his fingers through his sandy blond hair. Two guards stood
at the doorway behind him and a few servants passed in silence, but all kept
their eyes downcast and left the prince to himself. He shook his head and
looked up to the high-arched ceiling. With each heartbeat against his chest, he
felt the glass organ would leap out of his throat. He swallowed hard.
“My lord?” a voice whispered from
behind. He turned and Sobriina stepped through the door and walked to the
prince’s side. “My lord, her eyes are discolored, are they not?” Theron
shrugged and glanced at the floor. He shook his head again and breathed out
heavily. Sobriina studied her friend.
He saw her brows knit together. “What is it?” he whispered. A
servant walked by, his eyes downward, but Theron knew he still heard them. The
she-elf waited until he was gone.
“Please tell me,” she said, her
voice hushed, “that I am not the only one troubled by Olivia’s new ways.”
The prince blinked in surprise and smirked. “I thought I was the
only one.”
Sobriina shook her head and glanced at the dining hall door.
“Come with me,” he whispered. Theron grabbed her arm and led her
down a hallway. They walked through a large room into a small chamber.
Weapons lined the walls, and a rug of wolf’s fur carpeted the
stone floor. A bowl filled with oil sat in the midst of a wooden table; a flame
danced above its oiled container. No one was in the room, save the two friends.
Theron shut the door behind them and the fire’s orange glow lit their faces.
“Tell me what you’ve noticed,” he said, facing her.
Sobriina warily stepped further from the door, her eyes shadowed
with concern. “My accusations may be flawed, my prince,” the Lunaris whispered.
“But . . . I dare say Lady Olivia has changed.”
He nodded his head. “I’m grateful
you see it too.”
“Indeed.” Sobriina wrung her hands.
“The Lady Olivia I know is not like the lady we just sat with. Small things.
Simple things, that is all I have noticed, yet they stand out and look me
straight in the face!” The she-elf shook her head; she looked pale. “Olivia is
not like this, this woman. Not so sharply changing in her temper, such as how
she snapped at you when you mentioned her brown eyes! Also, the Olivia I love
did not always embrace you at every possible occasion. She was very reserved
about her feelings toward you.”
Theron glanced away; he did not want that aspect of Olivia’s new
character to change.
“Her vocabulary is different,”
Sobriina continued, “and not like her. And how she acted when Nan was horribly
slain! She barely spoke of the woman who was like a mother to her. Not even a
tear stained her dress! No, she is acting as if she is not disturbed for the
fallen creature!”
“I agree.” Theron nodded. “I would
think Nan’s death would put her in a mournful state.”
“My lord, I fear for Olivia!” Sobriina cried suddenly as she took
hold of his arm. “I do not know what has become of her, or if a spell has taken
hold of her, or . . . or—Ah! I don’t know!”
A muscle in his jaw tightened.
“We’ve gotta figure this thing out,” said a new voice.
Sobriina and Theron whirled around and saw Elshender standing in
the doorway. They hadn’t even heard him enter. The warrior looked at Theron,
his jaw clenched and shoulders back. “I’ve got a few ideas.”
Sobriina opened her mouth to object, but Theron nodded before she
could speak. She shut her mouth and frowned.
Elshender closed the door and they sat at the table. He glanced at
Sobriina; his eyes ran her up and down with a scowl. He turned to Theron and
stuck a thick thumb in Sobriina’s direction. “You’re asking this woman for
advice?” She glared at him testily.
Theron looked his friend in the eyes. “She’s not a woman. She’s a
she-elf. There’s a difference and I value her words. Respect her.” Elshender
looked down and shifted his weight. He grumbled something under his breath, but
fell otherwise silent.
Sobriina eyed Elshender and lifted her chin. A small grin pulled
at her lips and she turned to Theron. “May we speak frankly in this counsel?”
The prince nodded.
Feet thudded past the closed door, and everyone stiffened. They
listened until the footsteps carried on, and their shoulders relaxed. No one
spoke for several moments until Sobriina motioned to Elshender.
He gave her a firm look, but glanced away before Theron noticed.
“There’s lots of things that could be the answer,” Elshender said. “For one,
maybe she is just being more . . . queenly like. Coming to Henricien
could’ve reminded her she’s to be queen. She might be afraid, and not know how
to cope with her new identity or something. I don’t know, women act strange for
no reason sometimes.”
“Yes, but that does not explain her callous response to Nan’s
death,” Theron said. “I know Olivia. She should be heartbroken.”
“Beyond even that, I trust.” Sobriina nodded.
“Nan could’ve been a mere slave,” Elshender suggested. “That’s
what she was anyways. Or even she could have stopped Olivia from being her real
self. Now that the slave’s dead, Olivia’s being herself.”
Theron’s eyes narrowed. “You know that is not true.”
Elshender looked at his friend and saw his stiffened shoulders and
balled fists. The soldier sat back in his chair and held up his hands. “To be
honest,” Elshender said, “I was not with the lady that much. I don’t know her as
you two do. But, really, none of us has known her for long.”
Theron glanced away from Elshender before he said something rash;
he knew Olivia, and he loved her.
Elshender eyed his prince for a moment. “What? You don’t like this
new side of her?”
“This is not her!” Theron’s eyes locked with Elshender’s once
more. “This is . . . is trickery! It is a cruel game of sorts.” He shook his
head. “It’s not her . . .”
“She completely loved Nan,” Sobriina said as she shook her head.
“Without a doubt.”
Elshender looked away from Theron, and the prince uncurled his
fist. “Or . . .” Elshender’s eyes narrowed. “She was raised in a really
peaceful place, right? No fighting. No death. Not like anything in Wraith’s
Hollow. That was new for her. The attack could have, you know . . . shaken her
up too much.”
“Yes,” Theron muttered, “I’ve
considered that.”
“No, I mean . . . She was shaken up
a lot. Might have done something to . . .” Elshender motioned to his head. “You
know . . . There might be several reasons for her new strangeness; this could
be one.” He snapped his mouth shut at Theron’s cold stare.
“But it isn’t,” Theron whispered.
“You don’t know that.”
“She’s not crazy!”
“She’s a woman. They’re crazy to begin with. Don’t rule stuff out
so quickly.”
Theron gritted his teeth, but looked away. His heart pounded;
Elshender’s words were too disturbing. He looked straight before him and
breathed out a slow, loud sigh. “What else? Yes, your suggestions are worth
hearing, but what else?”
Elshender and Sobriina glanced at
one another, but neither responded. Elshender cleared his throat and scratched
his nose. Sobriina stared at nothing in particular with narrowed, thoughtful
eyes. “What about a spell?”
Elshender glanced at her.
Theron’s brows drew low; he did not want to consider it. “Do you
really think it’s possible?”
Sobriina nodded. “A spell could have
been set on her shoulders.”
Theron sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.
This was absurd! Wizard forbid such an awful thing!
Elshender shook his head. “Just stories—”
“Consider it.” Sobriina leaned forward, her eyes intent on Theron.
“Lord Demus’s blood is laced with power from Wraiths themselves! Perhaps this
is why her eye color changed! Demus’s eyes changed to gray when touched by dark
magic; maybe our lady’s eyes did as well.”
“Sure, if he was real,” Elshender
muttered.
“That Spellbinder’s an old wives’
tale,” Theron said and shook his head. It was not real, none of it.
Sobriina’s eyes darkened. “What if
it is true! Something is shady and sinister within Wraith’s Hollow. Even the
meager horses sensed it! Whatever it was could have made her someone else. Or,
taken a piece of her glassy heart away! Even placed a darkness into her core
self.”
Theron lifted his chin and eyed his friend.
“You are suggesting . . .”
Elshender’s eyes narrowed. “Lord Demus changed the woman? I thought you were
smarter than that!”
“Possibly,” Sobriina said, then
gasped. “Possibly before you even set your eyes on her, my prince! How are we
to know if Olivia is truly who she claims to be, even from the beginning? There
might have never been a girl named Olivia—”
“Enough of this!” Theron slammed his
fist on the table and rattled the oil bowl. The two silently sat back in their
chairs. “I asked for your advice, not a child’s tale!”
Sobriina raised her head and looked the prince
in the eyes. “Lord Demus did this.”
Theron held her gaze, but did not reply.
“How are you sure?” Elshender
questioned with a smirk.
Sobriina took in a deep breath.
“What other explanation lies before us?”
“She ate something wrong, and that’s
what’s making her different,” Theron said, his eyes darkened.
“Her new skin, or way of being,
began the moment Wraith’s Hollow lay behind us. Something happened between the
trees of gray; I am convinced.”
“Obviously!” Theron scoffed.
Sobriina’s eyes narrowed. “A side of you wonders if my words are
true. It frightens you. That is the only reason you disagree; there is no
other.”
Theron’s jaw clenched as his eyes darkened still. “I disagree
because it’s ludicrous!” He turned away, seething with clammy hands. Sobriina
and Elshender watched him, and Theron felt the weight of their stares. He
cleared his throat and sat back in his chair. Maybe Sobriina’s right.
“Then test her.” Sobriina relaxed in her seat. “Test her and see.”
Theron closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. He
stared at the oil flame and watched as it flickered without a sound. He sat in
silence and the other two waited. Theron lifted his chin and breathed out a
slow hiss, nodding. “A test, then.”
Sobriina grinned.
Elshender leaned forward. “What? What is it?”
“And how can we lend a hand?” Sobriina added.
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“We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.”
~ 2 Corinthians 4:7
Our hearts are fragile.
Fragile like glass.
Hearts of glass.
Fragile like glass.
Hearts of glass.
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