Dreamwalker's Bride - Chapter 52

Spinning a web
“Oh! I… oh, what?” Trace feigned disorientation, but his surprise and fear were real as he turned to face the mysterious voice who yelled at him from the dark. “Who are you?”

“Who am I?” A guard stepped from the shadows forward, pointing a spear at Trace.

That seemed excessive.

“Where am I?” Trace blinked at the man and swiveled his head around to take stock of his surroundings. The question was partly sincere; he hadn’t known exactly what part of the palace he’d wandered into with Anaisa.

While he could easily find his way back, he didn’t really know the name of the wing or section of area he was currently in.

“Stop playing games!” The guard brandished the spear forward, causing Trace to jump back to avoid being poked by the thing. “What are you doing here??”

“I’m a servant in the stables,” Trace swallowed. “I muck out the stalls and groom the horses. Sometimes, during storms, I’m known to sleepwalk. Has it been storming tonight? What time is it?”

“I ask the questions!” The guard snapped, poking the spear closer at Trace’s face. “You want to tell me you sleepwalked past the guards at the entrance without being stopped?”

“Don’t blame me if they’re not good at their jobs. How do I get back to the stables?” Trace scratched his head. “The horse master will have my skin if I’m late for work. Is it dawn yet? I should be there!”

“You can go when I say you can go!” The guard sneered. Trace froze.

He realized that if the man searched him, the letter would be found, and it would be assumed that Trace was the intended recipient, sneaking around the castle at night. He blanched, but couldn’t reveal the letter without a heavy dose of suspicion from the already touchy guard.

The guard looked him over and glared. Trace tried to smile, but there was much to be nervous about at the moment. He hoped his anxiety could be interpreted as a sleepwalker being worried about getting in trouble.

His stomach growled loudly, complaining about the lack of breakfast.

“May I go?” Trace asked, looking down. “I’d like to grab something to eat on my way to the stable or I’ll starve by lunch.”

“Get to work, but there will be an inquiry and possibly a trial later this morning. You will be questioned, and if anything in the palace is found to be stolen, you will be the first suspect. Don’t try to leave the palace grounds or you will be presumed guilty!”

“Understood, sir,” Trace bowed slightly and fled before the guard could change his mind.

An inquiry. Trial! This was a disaster, wasn’t it? Trace clenched his jaw as he made his way back to the stables. He mentioned nothing of it to the Horse Master or anyone else, preferring to work silently as he sifted through his options.

Bring the letter? Leave it in his quarters where a search would find it? Go now and take it to the highest official he could find that would be willing to see him? Wait until he was summoned?

The possibilities, a few good but most terribly bad, stretched out before him. If he went now, he would likely be brushed off. At least being summoned would get him an audience with someone who had at least a little power… he hoped.

Then again, if he was in the middle of an inquiry for himself, wouldn’t it be suspicious to try and bring up a plot by someone else? Would it seem like he was a guilty person trying to get out of trouble by laying blame at another’s feet?

It was all a mess, and he still hadn’t fully planned out what to do by the time the guards came for him.

They held a warrant, sworn out by the guard who had caught him in the palace. Trace’s stomach knotted with nerves, and he wondered, if he were thrown in the dungeon over this, whether his blackmailer would bother to have him freed, or just abandon him entirely.

Thankfully, Trace was not shackled by the guards, merely escorted into the palace and up into a room that was brighter and more cheery than he predicted. The storm of the night before was now long gone, leaving the air chilled and clear.

The sun shone defiantly through a large window as if mocking Trace’s darker thoughts.

A middle aged man sat with eyes closed and hands folded across his stomach. A desk covered in stacks of paper loomed before him like a workload beyond what any normal man could conquer.

“Your Lordship,” The guard who stood to accuse Trace spoke up from the side, and the man behind the desk opened his eyes.

They were a rather startling shade of green. Expressionless, he nodded at the guard to step forward.

“Sergeant Ulrich, proceed.”

“I found this stable servant lurking in the palace in the middle of the night.” He pointed at Trace, who gulped.

“What is his name?” The man behind the desk asked.

“The name he gave when he was hired was Trace,” The guard had obviously been questioning the Horse Master, or some others, about him.

“The name he gave? You suspect he is not who he claims?” The lord leaned forward, showing interest for the first time.

“Well, no, that is his name, so far as I can find out, but if he’s a spy…”

“A spy in the palace,” The nobleman frowned, “would be incredibly stupid, or incredibly confident, to give his real name.”

“Yes, Your Lordship,” The guard nodded. “That, I suppose, is true.”

“Are you stupid or confident?” The man shifted his piercing green gaze to Trace.

“Um, No, Your Lordship,” Trace chewed his cheek. “But I do have a request to make.”

“You can’t make a request in the middle of your own inquiry!” Ulrich was outraged by his insolence, but the lord held up a hand for the guard’s silence.

“What is this request you would like to make?” He tilted his head.

Trace inhaled deeply. “I would like to speak with the king. Please.”