Chapter Seventeen - Beyond the Veil
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Beyond the Veil
“IT WILL ONLY be for a few hours.”
“Y-yes ma’am.”
“Just stay in the room and if anyone comes, tell them we’re trying on dresses.”
“Wh-what if they come in?”
“’Lira not doubt Gnash magic,” said the grumpy goblin as he folded his arms in front of his rough brown smock.
The maidservant stood in one of Rosamund’s dresses, shifting from foot to foot and wringing her hands, with a touch of excitement in her eyes.
In Rosamund’s eyes. It was strange to see herself standing there.
She tried to imagine she was only looking into a mirror rather than the glamoured face of Elira.
Gnash had been all too willing to help when he had overheard Rosamund’s plans with the maidservant.
Elira had been unsure at first but had stammered out that if it would help Rosamund then she would do it.
So she would stay in the tower looking like Rosamund, whilst she and Gnash waited for their chance.
“Wh-what if his highness c-c-comes?”
“That’s the beauty of the plan, we leave when he leaves,” said Rosamund excitedly, “he’s taking the carriage out first thing this morning. We’ll make sure we’re on it.”
“B-but how-”
“Maaaaaaaaagic,” said Gnash excitedly, skipping from foot to foot as he bounded towards the open window.
Rosamund lifted the hood of her cloak, “it’ll be fine.”
Elira grimaced, but held her thumbs up, “G-g-good luck.”
Rosamund nodded and swung her leg over the edge of the balcony to climb down the vines she had raised the previous evening.
It had exhausted her pulling the green shoots all the way up the tower, but she had managed it.
Though, she regretted spending so long making the vines thicker.
Climbing down them now, she could feel how weak she was, and they had only just begun.
Thankfully Gnash’s magic would take care of the rest. She was once again grateful for all her father’s lessons.
The two of them by the fire, listening whilst he explained the nature of goblins.
Their vast underground cities, and their powers of illusion.
Sweat was pouring down her face by the time she reached the bottom. They ducked down in front of one of the large canine statutes that flanked the steps, as Dorian and Sir Wulf came down the steps.
“Don’t go down there,” said Sir Wulf firmly.
“How else am I to look at it if I don’t,” said Dorian dismissively.
“Let me go,” said Wulf, almost pleadingly.
Dorian huffed, “and what would you know about the structural integrity of a mine shaft?” there was a silence, “that’s what I thought.”
“I can recognise sabotage,” said Wulf glumly, and sighed, “just be careful.”
Rosamund could picture the eye roll the prince gave the knight. Going by Wulf’s laugh she suspected she was right, and found herself smiling. Gnash grinned at her.
“Why is Lady’s face red?
“Shut up,” hissed Rosamund, “I’m concentrating.”
Gnash gasped and his eyes widened, “Lady is so mean to Gnash!”
Now it was her turn to roll her eyes, and she was about to placate him when she heard the little goblin snickering, “Lady has a crush.”
“Lady does not!” she said a bit too loudly which caused Gnash to ‘shush’ her.
Goddess, I hope not. A crush on the man that helped kill my cousin. What is wrong with me?
That thought steeled her, reminding her why she was here.
She needed to know this man. Who he was.
For her own sanity. She had not seen him since they had arrived back that night from the Ironhold, travelling the rest of the way in silence.
Not at breakfast, not in the hall, not anywhere.
The only reason she knew that he was leaving that day was because she had overheard Mrs Hawthorn and Tomas talking about it.
Maybe he had wanted to give her some space.
Or maybe he had been so repulsed by their proximity, her weakness, that he had needed space.
Pushing those thoughts from her mind, she watched him step into the carriage as Wulf held the door for him.
“How is the Lady Rosa-” Wulf started to ask before a black leather hand reached out and grabbed the door, slamming it shut.
Wulf shook his head and went up the steps, taking them two at a time, as the carriage started to pull away.
“Now Lady.”
Gnash snapped his fingers and sped off after the carriage.
Rosamund followed, trying not to look down at her now translucent arms and legs.
It had made her ill the first time Gnash had shown her.
It was not quite invisibility, more like camouflage, so long as she could stay as still as possible, she could blend into her surroundings.
The goblin leapt up easily onto the luggage rack of the carriage, Rosamund clambering up beside him.
Between the climbing, sprinting and hauling herself up, her muscles were screaming at her in pain.
It annoyed her how out of shape she had become.
She thought back to the hours that she had spent with her brothers in the gardens.
Watching them learn how to fence and duel.
She and Evelyne had tried and failed to copy them until their father had pulled them out of the bush they had been hiding in and encouraged them to join.
Her mother had shrieked when she had seen the two of them standing there, swords in hands and their skirts tucked into their bloomers.
However, father had convinced her. He always did.
Now she could barely pull herself up onto a carriage.
I’ll need to change that. Somehow.
She clung on to the luggage rack as the carriage rolled towards the large black gates.
There were shouts from the guards, voices she had heard before but could now put faces too as the carriage trundled by.
In her nightmares, these men had the faces of skeletons, or the rotting visage of corpses.
But they were just men. Just normal men dressed in the armoured livery of Prince Dorian, bearing his crest on their breastplates.
One of them, a young woman, looked directly at her, Rosamund held her breath and tried to make herself be as still as possible.
The woman’s bored eyes looked directly through her.
Slowly, the carriage rattled down the cobbled street. When the gates of the Blackthorn Hall Estate were out of sight she turned to Gnash and nodded. She tensed her body and the two of them jumped from the carriage.
Rosamund landed on her feet, taking a few steps forward to steady herself.
Gnash dropped the glamour on them and with relief she saw her gloved hands come back into focus.
The hood of her cloak had briefly dropped but she pulled it up quickly against the rain that had started to fall.
She had opted for a pair of men’s black trousers instead of her skirts.
It had felt strange at first, but Elira had altered them so that they fit her better.
She had then removed an old woollen dark navy coat that she had brought with her from Kilgavie.
It had been an old coat of her uncles. The buttons had her family crest on them though she doubted anyone here would recognise that.
More importantly, it was warm against the rain.
Droplets ran down the black slates of the rooftops around her, a rich granite that contrasted with the sheer white stonework of the houses.
There was a burst of warm orange light as someone lit a lamp inside, before opening the cross hatched window to place it in the windowsill.
Others did the same as she looked further down the streets.
Puddles pooled along the cobbles, the warm orange lights from the windows reflected in them.
The town began to wake, voices carrying out of the open windows.
The normal everyday sounds of families, of friends, of people, waking up to start the day.
She heard a wife chastise her lover for leaving her sooty boots in the living room.
She heard the shrieks of a young boy as he played with a yapping dog.
She turned when she heard two men behind her complaining about the rain.
They were dressed in thick brown leather dungarees and boots of the same colour.
They wore no shirt under them as far as she could see, just thick khaki coats that fell to their knees and dark heavy looking gloves.
They held helmets in their hands, one of them had a strange glowing purple light emanating from it.
His friend pointed it out to him, and he quickly fiddled with something that turned the light off.
They nodded to her as they passed and said good morning before continuing on.
In a daze she started to follow them down the street, reaching out a hand to Gnash.
The little goblin took it, staring up at her, watching her.
She could not tear her eyes away from the place.
There was something simple in the design of the houses, but elegant, inviting, warm.
Embellishments here and there, gemstones that hung from the side of houses, emanating a soft light as the clouds darkened above and the rain fell a little heavier.
More people poured out of their houses, some dressed the same way as the men, others in thick coats designed to protect against the weather.
Children laughed as they jumped in the puddles, wearing thick brown boots of their own, as fathers told them to hurry along or they would be late.