“It hasn’t killed anyone yet, so I doubt it.”He shook his head to reassure her.“No, I sense no threat.”He tilted his head.“Why have I never seen this before?”
“It wasn’t displayed in the Palace,” Rosalind started to roll it.“I feared that hanging might hurt it, and well, once King Xywellan wanted to reconcile with the Wyverns, he thought—”
“A bright picture of one being torn to shreds might make the wrong statement.”Ritathan nodded.“What of the others?”
“They are in storage here.A locked spare room.Perhaps you should check them?”Rosalind asked.
“Yes,” Ritathan said.“Now.”
“I’ll get the key.”Rosalind hurried out the door.
It took but a moment to scan the pile of rolled tapestries.Rosalind offered to roll them out, but her Papa shook his head.“No,” he said.“There’s nothing here to see.”He turned away.“We’ll help you roll up that one and then you should lock it back up.”
Rosalind nodded and left the room.
Ritathan stared down at the pile.
“Do you think that maybe, it’s tied to the Blood somehow?”Halithe asked softly.
“A very good question,” Ritathan said.“To which I have no answer.But you said that the Lord High Baron touched it, yes?”At Halithe’s nod, he smiled.“A puzzle, then.Perhaps you will solve it one day.”He mock frowned at her.“After you have learned to put the water back in the bowl.”
Halithe sighed.
Chapter Thirty-Four
In the Palace of Xy
Riven rubbed the grit from the corner of his eyes but the spidery black handwriting didn’t waver.He needed options.He’d spent months poring over the scroll, following the routine, trying not to give away the fact that he was seeking alternatives.
He didn’t have any.
The click of Avice’s knitting needles was a steady rhythm.She sat next to the table, watching him, as they always did, day after day, every afternoon, as he struggled.
They had blankets, baby clothes, and nappies to show for their time.
He had nothing.
Riven groaned as he eased away from the desk, stretching his back.That wasn’t quite true; he had learned a lot.But the answers stayed the same.
The spell was perfect, and in its perfection lay the problem.It either worked or it didn’t.It resisted modification or alteration; it had a purpose, and that was that.It was well designed to protect the child at the center, but it held the possibility of failing spectacularly, to the determent of everyone around it.
Including him.
Avice shifted and caught his eye.“Tired?”she asked, her narrowed eyes fixed on his face.
Riven rolled his shoulders; there was an ache between his shoulder blades.“Hard morning, downstairs.They’re prepping for the blessing feast for the heir.”
The knot in his back didn’t ease.He was almost out of time and he knew it.
Avice nodded and started to gather up her work.“I will send Nora to you,” she said.
“That’s not necessary,” Riven protested half-heartedly.
“I think it is.”She gathered up the scroll, placing it in its box as the door opened.
Witless entered, carrying Riven’s dinner tray, a baby doll in the crook of his arm.“Dinner, dinner,” he said with a grin a mile wide as he slid the tray onto the table.
Riven returned the smile, until what he’d thought was a doll waved one of its arms, free of its swaddling.
