Dreamwalker's Bride - Chapter 102

Chapter 102: I’m not qualified for this
Trace was sent all around the palace to oversee various measures and checkpoints… which seemed ridiculous to him; he had no expertise whatsoever in security.

Still, who was he to disobey royal commands?

So he checked the ballroom for risks or hiding places for assassins or other wrongdoers. He walked the halls with the same idea, and patrolled with the guards through the lower sections of the palace where he had once snuck inside on a stormy night.

The king certainly didn’t want a repeat of that circumstance. Even though Trace had claimed at the time he was sleepwalking, that made the guards there look even worse.

He passed the inset in the wall where Yemi had hidden the kidnapping note. A little wave of nostalgia overtook him as he remembered wandering the stairway with Anaisa that night. He sighed, and his brow furrowed.

He wondered… if he had an idea with no chance whatsoever of success, surely that wouldn’t count as an attempt? More of an outlet for his own frustration at his situation.

With a thoughtful expression, he asked the guards to take him down to the kitchens. After all, with the coming and going of dozens of servants needed for the preparation of such a grand ball, that was a very vulnerable point of entry.

“May I see the list of extra servants for the ball, and have some extra paper for notes?” He glanced at one of the guards, who scrunched his brow, but nodded.

Soon, Trace was looking intently at the list provided, scanning names and positions. The butler even had an intensely detailed schedule of which servant should be where at what times during the ball taking care of which duties.

It was startlingly well run.

“Please search the kitchens and make sure there is no one inside who doesn’t belong.” Trace said over his shoulder, and the guards disappeared to carry out the direction. Trace glanced around, deciding to put his theory to the test.

This would never work, but for that reason, he might be able to do it. It would accomplish nothing at all, except to help test the limits of the command’s bind over him.

He took the pen and paper and moved through the servants’ dining room and onto the stairs behind them. He found the space he had once occupied with his wife as they whispered, that second day working in the palace.

Drawing out the writing instrument, he scribbled her a letter. Apologizing. Explaining. Detailing what he wanted to do but couldn’t. He left off their names, as agreed. Folding it carefully, he pushed it into the small space between stones where the mortar had worn away.

Trace stepped back. He knew Anaisa would not find this; she had no reason to come to this part of the palace. Any effort to tell her about it would certainly fall flat and get stuck in his throat; that would definitely constitute an attempt.

But this, it seemed, since he had no intention of even trying to tell her about it, was not prohibited by the Count’s magic.

He grinned widely at the small success and fled the little alcove before he came up with some idea to turn this victory into something more.

He was afraid if he did, the command would make him turn around and rip up the note or otherwise undo the little progress he’d made.

Reentering the kitchen area just as the guards finished their searching, Trace received a scathing look from the cook who had had her baking interrupted.

He nodded an apology before continuing his work. The entire palace was buzzing with excitement. Maids and footmen were decorating everywhere. Vases of flowers were being refreshed and placed at strategic positions to maximize enjoyment of the ball.

No one was running; that would be quite indecorous. Instead, servants hurried to and fro, struggling valiantly not to fall behind the head butler’s rigorous schedule.

Finally finished with his rounds, Trace reported to the king’s chambers. There was no meeting of the Advisory today; a public holiday in honor of the princess’s coming out had been declared. No doubt the streets were as alive as the palace would be tonight.

“Come!” King Harold’s voice boomed when Trace was announced.

The man entered with some anxiety. He’d never found a way to mitigate whatever effect the dreams were having on the king’s decision making.

Inside was a flurry of activity almost as furious as what was happening in the ballroom.

“Your Majesty,” Trace bowed.

King Harold stood in the middle of the room, looking across lists being held out by various servants. The stress rolling off the man’s shoulders was almost palpable.

“Trace, just who I need. You know my head of security by now, I’m sure. Umberland was just telling me that his inspection found everything satisfactory. That’s why I sent you on a secondary sweep, to catch anything he missed, like the plot against my daughter.”

The head of security’s hands tightened into fists on the paper he held, and he pierced Trace with a sharp look.

“The guards have done a good job filling the gaps in the perimeter,” The farmer-turned-bodyguard confirmed. He probably would not be able to sneak in the way he had before. “We will need to be diligent that all the clever new security measures remain in place throughout the ball while disturbing your guests as little as possible.”

Umberland relaxed slightly as the compliment left Trace’s lips.

“It is as I told you, Your Majesty,” He smiled tightly. “I will not let anything bad happen tonight. Everyone will be completely safe.”

“If I had confidence in your words, I would have trusted you to order a secondary sweep instead of doing so myself,” King Harold snapped. “This night is important, for the entire royal family and the kingdom.”

A groan from the next room made Harold jump to his feet.

“Leave me, all of you. I must attend to the Queen. Trace, wait here for a few minutes until I return, I have additional instructions for this evening.”