When they reached the western wing, Gwennore paused a moment at the entrance. The Great Hall took up the entire length of the wing. A vaulted ceiling soared two floors overhead. As she glanced at the ceiling, she realized that the nursery was overhead. A balcony at the back of the Great Hall was filled with the minstrels who were tuning their instruments. At the front of the hall, a dais held a long table with three gilded chairs. Over each chair, a coronet of jewels hung from the ceiling.
Down each side of the Great Hall, there was a line of smaller tables and chairs. The center of the room was left vacant. For dancing, Gwennore assumed. On the side facing the outside of the castle, long windows overlooked the village of Dreshka.
Three enormous chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, providing several tiers of candles to illuminate the large room. More flames flickered in the candles of numerous wall sconces.
Margosha pointed at Dimitri, who was standing by a small table close to the dais. “You can eat there with the colonel. That table is reserved for nobles.”
“I’m not noble,” Gwennore whispered.
“You are here.” Margosha leaned close. “And as the general’s mistress, you automatically have a higher rank than the other women here. Except the queen, of course.”
Gwennore swallowed hard. Already, she could see other courtiers eyeing her suspiciously. She looked around, but Silas was nowhere to be found.
“I’ll see you soon.” Margosha rushed away.
Gwennore squared her shoulders. After one more check that her mental shield was solidly in place, she strode toward Dimitri.
“My lady.” A thin man with beady dark eyes stepped in front of her and bowed low. “May I introduce myself? I am Lord Romak, personal secretary to His Majesty, the king.”
Gwennore curtsied. “A pleasure to meet you, my lord.”
He gave her a brittle smile. “I must admit to a certain curiosity about you, my dear. General Dravenko has never brought a mistress to court before. He usually keeps his women at the army camp, where they belong.”
“Is that so?” Gwennore affected a bored look, even though the man’s rudeness was making her tense.
“How long have you been with the general?” Romak asked.
Gwennore waved a dismissive hand. “I doubt our affair is of any interest to you.”
“Oh, but it is.” Romak’s eyes narrowed. “As the king’s secretary, I must keep myself fully informed of everything happening in our country. I must say, I find it hard to believe that any woman would want to involve herself with the general. He’s from one of the cursed clans, you know.”
Gwennore snorted. The nerve of this man. He had black hair mixed in with the gray, so he was also a descendant of one the Three Cursed Clans. “I don’t frighten easily.”
“I suppose not. I’ve heard the elves are quite vicious when it comes to war. But I have to question how trustworthy the general is. After all, we are at war with Woodwyn, yet he has brought an elfin mistress to the capital.”
“I am not here to cause any trouble, my lord.”
Romak smirked. “How about we stop with the games and tell the truth?”
She arched a brow. “You first.”
His mouth twisted into a sneer. “I know you’re up to something. I have my own sources, you see, so I know the general’s tale about you is false. You’re not from Woodwyn. You’re the adopted sister of the queens of Eberon and Tourin. Are you here to spy for them?”
“No, of course not.”
He scowled at her. “Are you planning to tell your sisters about the curse?”
“No. Why would I, when I don’t believe it is real?”
He stepped closer. “Then you think there’s another explanation for the queen’s illness or the deaths of her children?”
Gwennore grew increasingly tense. “Perhaps.”
He gave her a speculative look. “Perhaps you should ask yourself who would benefit the most from the deaths of the royal children.”
Her breath caught. “Are you saying they were murdered?”
“Anything’s possible.” Romak shrugged. “Who would gain the most, do you think?”
“I suppose it would be the next in line.”
“The heir?” Romak’s eyes gleamed with malice. “Then that would be His Majesty’s younger brother. I believe you know him well.”
“I do?”
Romak chuckled. “You’re sleeping with him.”
Gwennore stiffened. Silas was the heir?
Romak’s eyes widened. “The general didn’t tell you?” He snorted. “I always knew he wasn’t to be trusted.”
Chapter Twelve
Gwennore attempted to appear unaffected, even though her mind was reeling. How could Silas fail to tell her something so important? He had to know that she would find out. What else is he hiding from me? How can I trust him when he doesn’t trust me?
“Oh, dear.” Romak lifted a hand to his face, doing a poor job of covering a nasty sneer. “I seem to have given you a shock.”
Gwennore’s sense of pride shot to the surface, giving her a boost of strength. “Shock, yes. I am definitely shocked you could suggest that someone as honorable as General Dravenko could have possibly caused harm to his brother’s children. I would hate for His Majesty to hear you are spreading such a horrific rumor.”
Romak’s smile quickly vanished as his eyes hardened. “I see you are loyal to the general. I just hope you haven’t fallen in love with him. For you must know that whoever marries him will be doomed to lose her children and go insane.”
Gwennore swallowed hard. “Your concern has been noted. Good day, my lord.”
She strode away, her heart pounding. Would the people here think she was trying to marry into the royal family?
“Good evening, my lady,” Dimitri greeted her as she came to a stop beside him. He tilted his head, studying her. “Is something wrong?”
She gave him an annoyed look. “You can’t tell? Why don’t you invade my thoughts and find out?”
He winced. “That was never intentional. And believe me, it was damned uncomfortable.”
“So sorry to cause you discomfort.”
“Exactly. If I had to hear you calling Silas General Gorgeous one more time, I
