Chapter 10
The idea of breakfast in bed had never really appealed to Lia.
The thought of getting crumbs in her sheets made her squirm.
So when the kindly maid who readied her room the night before offered it, she politely declined, got dressed and wandered down to the kitchen where one of the cooks, a plump mother-hen type of woman named Abigale, fixed her up with an egg and toast.
Lia poked at the food on her plate without really seeing it. She kept wondering where Tavia was . . . probably a hundred miles out to sea by now.
The entire castle staff had somehow noticed that Lia was left behind and, as she attempted to eat, Abigale was fuming on her behalf.
“It’s deplorable,” she insisted. “You’ve practically served her since birth! She can’t just cast you off like that!”
“She isn’t herself,” Lia mumbled. Part of her wanted to forget all about the princess. Afterall, Tavia had made her decision and could live with the consequences. She was a maid and she had been dismissed.
But then she would remember the two of them racing around the garden together as children, jumping on the beds, getting into trouble one way or another.
She had always been more than a maid to Tavia and they both knew it.
Those happy memories only served to make Lia more furious about her dismissal, and yet, they also made her care more than she liked about Tavia’s safety.
Tavia was not acting like herself, and Lia could not—would not—simply wait when her friend needed her most.
“There you are!” came Tyrell’s chipper voice as he appeared in the doorway. “Feeling better?”
Images of the night before flashed through Lia’s mind—how could she have fallen to pieces in front of Tyrell like that?
Her cheeks flushed scarlet and her gaze dropped to her plate. “Yes, much better. I was . . . just tired is all.”
“Do you need anything, my Lord?” Abigale asked.
“A little tea if you don’t mind,” Tyrell answered. “And some for Lia too.”
“Of course,” The cook replied and stepped into the adjoining room to fetch it.
Tyrell waited until she was out of sight, then slid into a seat across from Lia.
“I sent a message to my sister,” he said. “Whenever you’re finished here, secure a carriage to Castle Durando back home in Allys and stay with my sister until I return.”
“Back from where?” Lia asked.
“Back from Castle Salamar,” he insisted. “Listen, what the princess did to you . . .” he scowled. “It was disgraceful. If I treated a faithful servant that way, father would disown me!”
Lia believed him. Tyrell’s father was a good man, it was the reason Tyrell had become such a good man.
“Julian must be part Majis,” Tyrell theorized. “Because I don’t think Princess Tavia would ever do something like that without magic controlling her.”
“Maybe?” Lia answered, though she suspected some kind of love-mania was a more probable explanation than the terrifying power of magic.
“If I can tear her away from that scoundrel long enough,” Tyrell mumbled. “His magic will lose its hold. She’ll come home, take you back, and apologize profusely.”
“You going to kidnap her or something?” Lia pressed.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “I hadn’t worked out all the details yet.”
Lia rolled her eyes. One of these days, Lord Tyrell was going to get himself arrested.
“Wait a moment,” Lia whispered, her eyes brightening. “I have a better idea!”
Tyrell laced his fingers and leaned in to listen, like an eager terrier waiting for its master’s orders.
“We are going to sneak onto the island.” Lia’s voice sped up as she shared her brilliant plan. “Drag Tavia to Julian’s forbidden wing, and show her whatever horrors it contains!”
Tyrell’s eyes widened.
“If that doesn’t convince her to leave, well, then she must be under some kind of spell!” Lia nodded, her confidence in her own plan growing.
Tyrell nodded slowly. “Yes, that might work. I’ll try that!”
“We’ll try,” Lia answered.
“You can not go, you’re sick,” Tyrell pointed out.
“I’m not sick,” Lia insisted. “I was just tired and overwhelmed last night. I promise you I’m alright.”
“This is going to be dangerous.” Tyrell replied. “We’ll be on Julian’s land. We won’t have any recourse if something goes wrong.”
Lia pushed her chair out and stood up. “I’ll get my cloak.”
Tyrell, in turn, leapt up and exclaimed. “Absolutely not! There is no way a soldier like me could allow a woman of the royal house to come on such a dangerous mission. I forbid it! Do not ask again.”
“I never asked,” Lia pointed out.
Ten minutes later, a carriage pulled up to the back courtyard of the Iseldan palace.
A young lord stepped out from the kitchen doorway, accompanied by a royal handmaiden.
The young lord was looking broody and sullen, the maid focused and determined.
Without hesitation the pair boarded the carriage and set off on the long road through Iseldis, over the mountains into Allys, and finally onto a ship that would carry them to Salamar Isle.