Ella addressed Saris again. “Highness. I mean, Your Majesty. This place isn’t safe for you. You must go.”
Saris planted her hands on her hips. “Since when do you address me as anything but Saris or Scamp?”
Saris? Scamp? Never!
“Possibly since you became the high king's consort.”
“I'm still Saris.” Saris darted across the floor and wrapped her arms around Ella, who stiffened before relaxing. A smile slowly lifted her weary features. Her dress appeared clean but worn. She wore no mantle or cloak so hadn't come in from outside.
“Do you live in the castle?” Wycke asked.
Ella bobbed her graying head. “Yes, Prince Wycke. Some former servants live below stairs. The demon king never comes there.” Once more, her face flushed. “Begging your pardon, him being your brother and all.”
“Your description is accurate.” Wycke likely wouldn’t take offense no matter what this woman called his brother. Have at the insults—Wycke would gladly join in.
Saris shot Wycke a glare fiery enough to light the cold fireplaces. “He's still our brother.”
“Speak for yourself,” Wycke mumbled under his breath.
Ella encased Saris’s smooth fingers in her wrinkled, work-worn hands. “Oh, how I've worried for you, Princess, all this time. No one hardly ever brings news of Dhugach here. You were but a slip of a girl when you left.”
Saris pulled back. “How many citizens are left?”
“Not many. Most townsfolk moved away right after the last battle, those who lived. The ones who stayed are forbidden to leave, and travelers give us a wide berth. It’s rumored that hellhounds live in the woods. Some of the staff stayed here at the castle. We had no place else to go.” Ella stared down at the floor. “Lately, things have gotten worse. Much, much worse. People are disappearing. Come spring, when the mountain passes reopen, even Radre won’t be able to stop news of what’s happened here from reaching King Broen’s ear.”
A wrinkle formed between Saris’s brows. “But King Broen receives messages from the advisors he sent here. They’ve never mentioned anything being amiss.”
“They disappeared some time ago. If the king receives messages, they’re not from his advisors.”
Wycke had seen no direct danger yet, though unease twisted his insides, a feeling ofnot right.But, if trouble existed, they needed to go.
Ella regarded Wycke with cloudy blue eyes. “I've barely enough magic to start a fire, yet I can feel yours, Prince Wycke. As you didn't arrive announced with a retinue of attendants, and the mountain passes are currently closed by snow, I know you're not here as Radre's guests.”
This woman felt his magic? Even with the wristband? Not good. Wycke shook his head. “No, we're not. Is he even here?”
Ella closed her eyes one long moment before opening them again. “I cannot feel his presence, but a cloud of evil hangs over the tower, which could block my senses.”
“The tower?” Saris’s brow lifted. “He never went to the tower when we were younger. He'd always been afraid of Lady Ny—”
Ella threw up a staying hand, shifting frightened eyes back and forth. “Please. Don't speak her name.”
“What more can you tell us? We're… worried about our brother.” Close enough to the truth, though the words tasted sour in Wycke's mouth.
Their unwitting spy lowered her voice. “Whenever he is in residence, he stays in the tower. He seldom comes to this level. No dinner parties, no riding around the grounds as your father did. I don't know how he gets fed. He certainly never comes to the kitchen, though he must know we're there.”
“We need to see the tower, Ella,” Saris said, voice as earnest as Wycke had ever heard. “There's a secret door leading to the ground floor, but I don't remember where.”
Judging by Saris’s wince, Ella gripped her hands a bit too hard. “You don't want to go there. Please, Ma… Saris. I'm begging you. Stay far away.”
Saris kept her voice soft, a reminder of how she used to speak when child Wycke woke from nightmares. “We must know what Radre is about. He's not been himself lately. We're very concerned.”
“Well, if you're sure.” Ella released Saris’s hand, scrubbing the toe of her boot over the floor. The worn leather left an arc in the dust. “Prince Wycke, can you ensure we're safe with your magic?”
No need to make her worry. Wycke worried enough for them all. He’d contemplate how she knew of his magic later. Checking his wrist assured him he still wore the band. Of late, his power had grown beyond what the band could contain. Still, best not to announce,“Hey, powerful sorcerer here!”Especially when he didn’t know how to properly use the tools at his disposal.
He drew his sword again. “If you won't go with us, show us how to get there. Tell no one you saw us.”
“As if!” Ella sniffed. “I’ve served house Bertillian most of my life. I will serve Bertillians to my dying day.”
