A Princess of Sorts by Wilma van Wyngaarden

Author:Wilma van Wyngaarden [Wyngaarden, Wilma van]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wilma van Wyngaarden
Published: 2019-09-19T22:00:00+00:00

| Chapter 11 |

“I am relieved that the House of Rellant thrives,” the new queen informed Minda when the soldiers had transported her in her chair back to her royal quarters. “Also Captain Renold’s organization – along with the castle kitchen – of a feast of such magnitude is admirable! However, now I want only to go to bed.”

“As you wish,” Minda agreed. “Sorrell is sleeping and the girl will take over Prince Leon from the captain.”

Coltic gave a sheepish grin. “Thank you! I will leave a full guard on duty, including three men on the roof garden. I need to stretch my legs and want to consult with Mako and Renold. They have not yet informed me of what has been discovered from the priests.”

Scylla shuddered and waved him off. “Do not let Mako come back here to ruin my night – if at all possible! Tomorrow is perfectly fine for the latest news... for any news.”

He left. Minda called for the late queen’s women to come and assist Scylla to retire.

Finally, at long last, she was in her own bed in the windowless alcove off the main room. The day was drawing to a close, although the noise still emanating from the Great Hall, the courtyard, and outside the castle showed no signs of winding down. One could draw the conclusion that the revelers were nowhere near ready to end their celebrations.

“It all may go on long into the night,” Minda warned her. “I can pull the curtains across, but it may do no more than muffle the worst of it.”

“I feel it is better than silence,” Scylla said in exhaustion. “Let us call it the best of what might have come to fruition!”

Minda gave her a glance of silent agreement and left her alone at last.

Scylla pulled the covers up to her chin – apparently, the bed had been made up with fresh bedding as it smelled much better – and closed her eyes.

She was asleep almost instantly. Hours passed in dreamless sleep.

... But somewhere past the middle of the night... she became aware of a small sound. Her eyes were still closed, clamped shut in deep, deep sleep.

Where was she? Asleep in the castle, her drowsy mind supplied. Outside the castle was silence – the last revelers had gone to sleep. Inside the queen’s chambers, there were only sounds of breathing – probably Sorrell, Minda, Leon and the girl looking after him. There was a gentle, rhythmic snore from one of them.

But what was making noise in her alcove?

Scylla forced her eyes open and saw only darkness. She held her breath and listened.

There was a small, chittering sound. It stopped and was repeated, and then again.

She became convinced it was a sound of suffering. Someone in the room was quietly moaning to himself... or herself. Or itself. What a very odd little sound.

Scylla yawned. She raised her head, listening.

Silence.

“Who’s that?” she whispered as quietly as possible.

There was no answer. After a minute or so she laid her head back on the pillows and closed her eyes.

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