She nibbled at a slightly sweet leafy green plant from her plate, something imported from one of the neighboring kingdoms, and took a quick look around the room. The table was an imposing piece, shaped like a giant horseshoe, the sections crafted so cleverly that it appeared seamless. Fires were blazing in every hearth in the room, lending a cheery warmth to the atmosphere.
To her father’s right sat Tyndall Hurst, his closest advisor. She had once overheard maids in the hall whispering to each other, saying that he was secretly a necromancer and her father had employed him to bring his dead wife back to life but he had never been up to the task. If that were true, Tyndall must have impressed him in some way because the king continued to keep him in close counsel.
Lana had never liked the looks of him. The man was always perfectly polite to her but something about the greasy sleekness of him was off putting. Tyndall’s slate gray hair was cut short and always slicked back from his face, drawing attention to his weasel-like features and beady, black eyes. No, she didn’t care for him one bit.
The rest of the table was made up of the highest ranking royals in the kingdom. Her family wasn’t the only royal family, but it was the family in charge and if anything happened to her, every single one of these people would try to seize power. That was the way in her land. If there is a female heir, the throne is secure. If there isn’t, any family with royal blood - no matter how diluted - could make a play for the throne.
She could see the curiosity in the furtive glances they shot her way. None of them were brave enough or bold enough to address Lana lest it seem like they were conspiring to be close enough to slip a dagger in her heart. But they watched her, carefully, trying to avoid notice. Perhaps they were checking to see if she was in good health and cursing their luck because she appeared hale and hearty.
Her appetite gone, Lana folded her hands in her lap and looked down at the table, waiting quietly to be allowed to retire. She looked forward to these feasts as an opportunity to be around other people but it was always soured by her circumstances. There could be no joy in a life such as this, one where peace itself depended on her existence and everyone around her was a potential enemy.
* * *
Getting into the castle was a lot easier than Clay had imagined. His clothing made him appear to be a commoner and he was able to hide himself in a group of craftsmen coming in to do work on one of the gates. He may be taller than the average human male but it wasn’t so uncommon as to warrant notice and he blended in easily.
Once he was past the gates, he casually broke off from the craftsmen and approached the stables. Picking up a bale of hay, a duty he’d seen a stable boy perform, he walked purposefully inside and dropped the bale where others were stacked up. Brushing off his hands, Clay glanced around, keeping his head down a bit and trying to act as casually as he could. No one was paying any attention, so he strolled over to an entryway that appeared to lead into the castle itself, then walked through as if he had a place to be and no time for idle chatter. It was amazing how few questions people would ask if you simply acted like you knew exactly where you were going and what you were doing.
Walking around like he belonged there would only get him so far now that he was in the castle. There were guards at every corner and a man with no obvious reason to be there might be questioned. It was time to be a little stealthy. Clay kept to the shadows as much as he could if he knew for a fact he could hide but when he thought he might be spotted, he continued strolling at a casual pace, completely unconcerned. If someone saw him, it was better to be out in the open than skulking in the shadows. Skulking made you look like you were up to something. The best thieves could steal in plain sight, it was the skulkers that got caught first.
Passing by what appeared to be the servant’s quarters, Clay snatched a broom that had been left propped against the wall. It was like finding a golden key that led straight to the woman’s room. A servant with a broom was not at all worth noticing and it gave him an excuse to be anywhere in the castle.
Clay propped the broom on his shoulder and walked aimlessly while trying to appear as if he knew exactly where he was going. Needing to find some stairs, he went down a narrow hallway and turned left, ducking his head whenever he passed anyone in clothing even somewhat fine, but none of them looked at him twice. This was almost too easy. He was a little disappointed.
After a few more turns, he finally found a stairwell leading up from the ground floor. Clay took the steps quickly, mentally making note of where they were in relation to the exit should he have to flee. He was making a map of the castle in his head as he went along, something any elf with even a little survival knowledge could do. When you went out into the forest, you needed to have a head for directions and locations otherwise you could become easily lost and you couldn’t always count on the trees to point you in the right direction. Trees are often bored and enjoy playing tricks on young elves just for kicks.
The stairs kept going up with landings at each floor. Once he’d risen to the
