A murmur went through the cleaningcrew.
Wicked amusement flickered in Selma’s eyes. “Alright then. Think you’re up to the task? Go ‘head. Clean the King’s rooms. Imogen here will go withyou.”
Imogen towered over me at around six feet tall. She had bright pink hair, a nose piercing, and a swirling tattoo on her stomach, shown off by the cropped tank top she wore with black skinnyjeans.
We both opened our mouths to argue. Me because I couldn’t very well snoop through Lugh’s stuff if I had someone watching my every move. And Imogen because, well...it seemed like the entire cleaning crew was pretty averse to the idea of tidying up the King’srooms.
“Nope!” Selma stopped us before we could get in a word. “Moira, you wanted to do it, so you’re getting what you asked for. Imogen, you can’t keep avoiding this task for the rest of your life. Now, go. Shoo. Get on with it, the both ofyou.”
With a grumble in my direction, Imogen led me over to the cupboard full of cleaning supplies. We loaded up with bin bags, cleaning rags, and a hoover, and made the trek over to the Royal Palace. It was a commanding building inside the same square where the Great Hall had been built. In the middle, a small tower rose up above the flat roof, holding an ancient clock with goldenarms.
We entered a small wooden door beneath an oversized wrought-iron lamp. Inside, Imogen led me down the red-carpeted floor to a grand arched door at the end of thehallway.
“You’ve gotten us into it now.” Imogen balanced the bucket of cleaning supplies in her arms, and then kicked the door open. We strode inside, and I came to a sudden stop. The place was an absolutetip.
“What the hell?” Isqueaked.
“Yep.” She tossed me a bin bag. “Welcome to the wonderful task of cleaning up after Lugh. He’s a great King,but...”
I bit back the urge to contradict her and gazed at the mess. “How long has it been since you last cleanedit?”
“A week. He always goes into town on Thursday mornings, and we like to clean it when he’s not around to watch. It makes himgrumpy.”
I gawked. I couldn’t help it. Lugh’s living quarters were made up of three open-plan rooms. The living area stretched out just before us where two dominating sofas formed a V around a twenty gallon aquarium. The floors were beautiful, glistening hardwood, from what I could see, but every square meter hid beneath piles and piles of books. There were books on the sofas, books on the coffee table, and books sitting on top oflampshades.
If it hadn’t been so messy, I would have been impressed. The lofted white ceiling was carved in intricate, antique designs and the wood-panelled walls were just as elaborate. Bronze candle-holders were scattered throughout, and the center stone fireplace took my breath away. It was big enough to fit an entire horse inside of it. Above a mantlepiece, a golden horse and a silver lion held up a coat of arms between them. That same sigil was on it—the cloaked figure hidden in themist.
I inched further into the room and looked to the right where Lugh’s bedroom hid under...more books. The ivory sheets were on the floor, along with his pillows. Pens and pieces of parchment decorated the walls as if they’d been taped therehaphazardly.
To the left was the kitchen, but no meals were cookedthere.
It just held morebooks.
“Any idea what this is allabout?”
Imogen was already busying herself. She’d made a stack of books by the archway separating the bedroom and the living room, and she seemed to be placing them into colour-codedpiles.
“He’s researching,” she said firmly as her pink hair fell into her face. “Most of these books are hundreds of yearsold.”
“I can see that,” I coughed. The dust was as plentiful as thebooks.
Imogen stood and pointed toward the sofa. “Come on then. You were the one who wanted to clean his room. We start by sorting the books and stacking them in piles by the walls. We need to clear the floors and furniture, so we can give the place a goodclean.”
With a shake of my head, I got started. While Imogen focused on the living area, I headed into his bedroom to take a look around. She was right. Even if I wanted to snoop, there’d be nothing to see unless we cleared all thisaway.
As I grabbed the books from his bed, something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye. It was a glistening oak case tall enough to brush the top of the ceiling. I stepped back, surveying it withinterest.
The case held a spear. Next to it sat a black shield with a hard boss of white bronze. It was a pretty basic looking shield, but thespear...
I took a step closer. It was one of the most beautiful weapons I’d ever seen. With its five points, it could do some serious damage. The heads were a dark bronze, each one tapering to fine and very sharp points. They were all fastened to a rowan shaft and latched into place by gleaming golden rivets. But the most interesting part about this spear wasn’t the craft of it. It was the magic seeping out of thecase.
It looked nothing like the spear from the Sluagh vaults. That had only had one tip, and it had been silver, notbronze.
But what were the odds? I wouldn’t really call a spear a typical weapon of choice. Curious, I reached toward thehandle.
“You can’t touch that!” Imogen leapt toward me, her eyes wide and fearful. She grabbed my hand and yanked me away from thecase.
“Whoa, calm down,” I sputtered. “I was just taking alook.”
