Hexes of the Fall (The Hex King Book 1) by L Marton

Author:L Marton [Marton, L]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-03-19T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Excellent Match

ON THE FOURTH night of the equinox celebrations, Genry found himself attending another evening event at another mansion, this one belonging to House Tai-Gaullad. They were hosting the Jubilant Troupe from Terrotha, who were reenacting the signing of the Sarien Crest Treaty in an impressive indoor amphitheater. The guests were all sitting in a crescent around the stage while attendants ranged through the aisles, offering roasted chestnuts and apple slices dipped in salted caramel.

Genry felt a yawn coming and strove to make it discreet, though he doubted that anyone would notice in the dim lighting. The tedious theater production had attracted a slightly older crowd than had come to the Gildaurem soiree, and he somehow found himself seated among a cluster of middle-aged aristocrats, some of whom were distant relatives of his. The lighting, combined with the wine, the food, the day’s exercise, and the dull subject matter of the reenactment, were all factors that contributed to his overall sleepiness. He wished he could just take a carriage home and go to bed.

And why don’t I? he wondered as the actor playing Owan Vestrid launched into his fourth monologue of the night. The whole point of being here is to hype up my duel with Rhaka, and nobody is even talking. He was aware of some muted conversations happening around him, but there was no way of circulating the room or entering any of those exchanges.

Genry apologized softly as he shuffled in front of his seated companions and into the aisle. Immediately, an attendant appeared and offered him some more roasted chestnuts.

Genry’s reply was just loud enough to satisfy the curiosity of those sitting around him. “No, thank you, but if you could direct me to the lavatory …?”

“Ah. Just this way, Your Highness.”

The attendant, a short, dark-skinned Pioran, probably close to Genry’s age, led him up the aisle to the back of the amphitheater and back into the grand foyer. There was a rich burgundy carpet in the center of the room and a wide sweeping staircase along the left side, with beautiful frescoes painted upon the walls.

“Just down this hall,” the attendant said, pointing. “Stop when you see the portrait of Lukas Tai-Gaullad and turn right.”

“Thank you,” Genry said then began walking in that direction.

A few people were loitering about in the grand foyer and adjacent hallways, admiring the massive, colorful portraits and historical scenes that hung in massive golden frames upon the walls. House Tai-Gaullad was known for its impressive collection of artwork, all of which was on display for anyone wishing a reprieve from the ceaseless reenactment that was transpiring on stage.

Genry walked briskly down the hall, nodding to the groups of two or three people that were perusing the artwork. He had to read the plates beneath the portraits to identify Lukas Tai-Gaullad but was able to find it easily enough.

When he emerged a few minutes later, he was determined to obtain a carriage to take him back to the castle but found himself unexpectedly arrested by a vivid painting a little farther down the hall.

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