Tara Duncan and the Forbidden Book by HRH Princess Sophie Audouin-Mamikonian

Author:HRH Princess Sophie Audouin-Mamikonian
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Skyhorse Publishing
Published: 2013-09-09T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 12

A ROYAL AUDIENCE

Tara’s grandmother wasn’t known for her sense of diplomacy. At court, it was said that her ancestors must have had dwarf blood, because like them, she tended to strike first and ask questions later.

Isabella gave a vigorous demonstration of this by yelling at Tara for a good ten minutes. “Ingrate!” was the kindest of all the words she used.

At first Tara tried to defend herself, but eventually gave up, fascinated by her grandmother’s breath control.

I’ve only met Dad very recently but . . . Yes! She could feel him reacting.

Danviou popped out from behind Tara’s shoulder and planted himself in front of Isabella. Forcing his tiny voice, he remarked coldly: “You haven’t changed, dear mother-in-law. I see you’re as direct as ever.”

Isabella, who was halfway through her tirade, abruptly closed her mouth and stopped in midsentence. Her green eyes widened in astonishment, and a welcome silence fell on the assembly.

Tara grinned. Seeing her grandmother mute with amazement was worth all the bawling out in the world.

“Danviou?” Isabella stammered. “But . . .”

“It’s a long story,” snapped the ghost, to save time. “Stay where you are and stretch out your arms.”

Fascinated, Isabella obeyed. The red glyphs could be seen on her wrists, living testimony to Tara’s growing power.

“By the blood spilled, by the word given, I free you from your oath,” the ghost recited. “The Blood Oath is ended.”

The crowd turned to stare at Isabella’s wrists. Nothing happened. The glyphs continued to slowly pulse on her white skin.

“I don’t understand!” he cried in surprise. “They should disappear!”

Still unnerved at finding herself facing the tiny ghost of her son-in-law, Isabella rolled down her sleeves.

“I have no idea why it didn’t work,” she said. “And Danviou, why are you so . . . small? And how do you happen to be here? I don’t understand.”

Just then a trumpet blast rang through the castle, which quivered with outrage. Access to the Transfer Room had been requested from the demonic realms, which tripped the alarm. Magically amplified, the king’s voice summoned all high wizards to the Council Chamber.

“Drat! I have to go,” said Master Chem, shaking his head in annoyance. “Isabella, you should come with me; it’s been a long time since you’ve been to a council meeting. Children, the session is open to the public. Come and sit in the stands. I want you to follow the discussion, in case it concerns you. Manitou, please make sure they don’t take any unusual . . . initiatives.”

A note of pleading could clearly be heard in the dragon’s voice.

The Council Chamber was used for administrative functions. It was smaller than the Throne Room, but just as elaborately decorated. The lacy open work on the marble and granite columns hardly seemed strong enough to support the room’s vaulted blue-and-silver ceiling.

Here, too, the banners of Lancovit’s counts, dukes, and barons brightened the walls. Tara was surprised to notice a catwalk of carved blond wood that ran around the room above the stands. It was for the archers.

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