Page 46 of The Rose in the Shadows

She shrugged, taking it from my hands and folding it neatly. The letters had been delivered to every apartment in the palace that morning, declaring that the day was to be spent in quiet solitude and prayer to the Gods. Food was to be delivered to apartments rather than formal meals, and no one was permitted to exit their suites. In carefully crafted sentences, it laid out some explanation of wanting to praise the Gods on the eve of the Peace Ball and pray for continued harmony.

Bullshit. It was all bullshit.

It was nothing more than a fancifully written lie to keep people from knowing about the attack or the investigation into it.

“Until we know who was involved in the attack, no one can be trusted,” Iris explained in a soft voice. “And with the Peace Ball so soon, the Dragon doesn’t want to show any weaknesses in our kingdom.”

“Well, he’s nothing if not concerned about appearances.”

Iris laughed and stood to tie my corset. Nessira and Geia had been banned from my service until the investigation was complete, so Iris had been sent to help me prepare for the emergency Council meeting that would be happening in the afternoon. She had been quiet all morning, obviously on edge from the evening prior, and I was hardly pursuing conversation myself. My attitude was sour after nightmares of underground tunnels and a three-headed dog had kept me tossing and turning all night.

Dimitri escorted us to the Council chambers wordlessly, and Iris squeezed my hand in a silent wish of luck before we went in. My letter had instructed me to join Clay in the center of the Council floor when I entered the Council chamber. Iris would sit in the nearly empty viewing area. That viewing area had been practically overflowing on my first trip to the Council room. Today, it was reserved for the few permitted to attend.

The room was cold and tense as we stepped in. Clay was mid-way through his testimony, recounting the evening and his identification of the hex bag in my room. The Council members sat in their booths with tight lips and worried eyes.

“Miss Moore, can you please provide your testimony of the attack?” The Dragon called down to me.

The next hour proceeded slowly. I first recounted what little details I could remember from the attack. My primary focus at the time had been breathing, not taking stock of my surroundings after all. Then I listed every moment of my day, every person I spoke to, and every place I went. I was truthful through it all, only leaving out the details of my private conversation with Clay in his room. When his dark eyes met mine as I spoke, I knew he appreciated that. Eventually, though, the Council heard what they needed from me, and sent me to sit in the viewing area with Iris.

Geia and Nessira gave testimonies next, under the pressure of a Truthseeker. He was a slender man with a balding head and thick mustache that curled at the ends. His resemblance to Lorelai was undeniable, and I knew I was looking at Mr. Pelland, her father. He was gentle with them, asking them to report on the events of their day. Nessira had spent the morning gathering herbs and flowers from the garden before preparing me for dinner with the dragon. Geia had gone to visit Ruthie in the morning to check on the gowns, but swore that nothing seemed amiss. Then, after helping me before the dinner, she and Nessira had both retired to their rooms.

“And who delivered Lady Moore’s gowns?” Mr. Pelland questioned.

“A kitchen boy,” Nessira told him, her voice sure. “I had thought it was strange for a kitchen boy to bring them, but he assured me that Ruthie had personally asked him to deliver them. They looked like perfectly normal dresses, so I thought nothing more of it.”

After that, they lined each of the kitchen staff up for Nessira and Geia to identify the young boy who delivered the dresses.

He’s young.I noted, as he timidly stepped forward, tucking his shaking hands behind his back.

His clothes were plain, like those we had seen at the tavern in town just last night. Blonde hair crested the top of his head, and his face was dirty with soot and flour from the kitchen, but his eyes were bright and his cheeks full with youth. He couldn’t have been over fourteen.

“Surely this isn’t the mastermind behind the attack,” I murmured to Iris. She only shrugged, focused entirely on the scene ahead of us.

The Dragon’s eyes narrowed down at him in disgust, and with a nod at Dimitri, he commanded the room to be cleared. The kitchen staff exited, as did Nessira and Geia, until all thatremained was the Council, Iris and I, and the boy with his interrogator. As he sat in the chair at the center of the Council floor, the boy shivered. He was terrified.

“Did Ruthie give you the dresses?” The Dragon asked him.

The boy answered without hesitation. “Yes, Ms. Ruthie gave them to me herself; she did. She asked me to take them straight to the Lady’s room right away. She said I should set them in her suites personally and not take no for an answer. Lady Moore needed to get her gowns without delay.”

Mr. Pelland cleared his throat, looking up at the Dragon and shaking his head slightly. The boy was lying. Frowning, I shifted in my seat, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my knees. What possible reason could this boy have to lie? He glanced up at me, just for a moment, eyes wide with terror. Wordlessly, I looked to Iris, who hadn’t moved an inch since we entered the room. Her jaw was tight, and her hands clenched.

“Iris, what’s the penalty for an attack on a Council member?”

She didn’t meet my eyes. “Death. The penalty is death by fire.”

Dragonfire, no doubt. I stood, resting my palms on the railing that separated me from the child. I had to do something. Even if this boy was involved, certainly he had been coerced somehow. I couldn’t let the Dragon murder this child. Not on my behalf. Not for any reason.

“Who gave you the dresses?”Mr. Pelland asked, his voice low and rough.

His magic spread through the room, and I nearly stumbled against it. I had thought Lorelai was powerful, but her father was something else. As easily as her power had pulled the words from my throat during my interrogation, his power pushed them down now, silencing me and all others but his victim.

The boy whimpered. “I- Well- Ms. Ruthie gave them to me herself, she did. She asked me to take them straight to the Lady’s room right away…”

He continued, repeating the same story. And yet, it wasn’t his words that made us all shift, glancing at each other as silent questions spread amongst the room. It wasn’t his words that made Clay raise an eyebrow and fold his hands into his pockets before anyone else could see the skin start to wrinkle and darken. No, it was thewayhe said the words with the same intonation, the same pauses, and the same head shake.

Mr. Pelland frowned, stepping forward and touching the boy’s shoulder. “Who gave you the dresses?”

He shuddered, groaning. “Ms. Ruthie gave them to me herself; she did. She asked me to….”

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