The Eye of the Wolf (29 page)

It
was an intriguing thought, one that made sense considering the location of the
house to the Secluded City. But what purpose did it serve?

Mikayla
grasped the doorknob and turned it slowly. The door swung open on silent
hinges. The passage flooded with light.

Victoria
straightened from where she had knelt beside the State Bed. Her heart beat like
that of rabbit being pursued by its hunter. Her mouth was dry and her eyes wide
as Mikayla stepped from the opening in the wall into the bed chamber.

Mikayla’s
eyes were wide as her foot hit the plush carpeting of the King’s bed chamber.
As her eyes adjusted to the brilliant light from the mid-day sun, she took in
the opulence of the room. Chairs covered in brilliant blue satin flanked a
fireplace crafted from a deep, midnight blue marble. Above the fireplace hung a
painting of a man she recognized as King Henry, the founder of the kingdom.
Deep mahogany tables littered the room covered with delicate china vases and
crystal knick-knacks. The midnight blue carpeting ran from wall to wall and in
the center of the carpet was the seal of Amor, the wolf guarding its territory
in the moonlight. Heavy, velvet drapes were pulled back from the ceiling tall
windows, allowing the spring sun to shine into the room, freshening from the
long illness of the king who had died there just a week before. The large state
bed reigned from the center of the room, dominating in size and power. The
canopy was covered in the same blue velvet as the drapes and decorated with
gold and red cords. The lighter satin cover shimmered in the light like a
placid lake of blue.

It
was beside that sea of blue that Mikayla’s eyes found those of the startled
Princess Royale of Amor. Mikayla immediately dropped onto one knee as she had
seen the people of Amor do when confronted with a member of the royal family,
knowing that she was in a place she had no right to be.

Victoria’s
pulse scrambled to reset itself as she struggled to compose the look of
astonishment that adorned her face. Mikayla had just stepped into the room from
a secret passageway. Victoria looked at the bent head of the other woman and
swallowed the air that had gotten trapped in her chest. She slipped the vial
she had found beneath the edge of the bed into the pocket of her simple blue
pants and crossed the room in several strides.

“Mikayla,
please stand up. There is no need for you to do this silly gesture.” Victoria
touched Mikayla’s shoulder and gestured for her to stand. A smile was plastered
to her face, but it didn’t quite meet her eyes. She hoped it hid the fear that
sang through her at the thought of being discovered in the King’s bed chamber.
Victoria’s voice sang through the bed chamber, welcoming. “Wherever did you
come from?”

Mikayla
stood and pushed the hair from her face awkwardly. “Um…well,” she paused. How
was she supposed to tell the Princess Royale that she had infiltrated the
castle through a secret passage from the cellar of her house? That sounded
ridiculous, even to her and she had lived it. She looked at Victoria, whose
green eyes were cool, reserved, but questioning. Victoria had a pleasant smile
on her face, even if she was still startled to see Mikayla appear from nowhere.
“Your Highness, I followed a staircase from beneath the house I was given to
here. I honestly didn’t know where I was going.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I
apologize for interrupting.”

Victoria’s
eyes widened in surprise. “A secret passageway?” Her voice was a whisper of
awe. “How terribly exciting!” Her eyes danced with pleasure. “I’ve always
wanted to discover something as thrilling as a secret passageway. You Americans
are so terribly clever, Mikayla.” She beamed.

Victoria
moved around Mikayla, the faint scent of lemon verbena following in her wake.
She peered through the opening that Mikayla had moved through making noises
that resembled exclamations of astonishment and curiosity. Her long, tapered
fingers with their coral fingernails tapped on the wooden frame of the door as
she investigated the opening and the stairs that disappeared below. She turned
to Mikayla with excitement dancing in her eyes.

“You
have truly discovered something phenomenal. I am very jealous.” Victoria
laughed with delight and stepped through the door. Her navy leather pumps
clicked joyfully on the first step. She leaned down to peer through the gloom.
“How odd that it should lead directly to your cellar. I wonder what its purpose
is?” Victoria looked over her shoulder at Mikayla whose eyes were dark with
nerves and a crease was carved in her forehead. “Do you think, perhaps, there
was a lover who once used this staircase to visit her lover, the King?”

Victoria’s
whisper was full of conspiracy and good humor. Mikayla found herself smiling
back and relaxing. She had forgotten how enjoyable she had found Victoria at
their first meeting, the feeling that if they had met under different
circumstances they would have been friends. “Or perhaps it was how spies were
dispatched so there could be no connection between the King and any spies
caught in other countries.”

Victoria
stepped through the door. “That sounds wonderfully like a James Bond film. I do
love a good James Bond movie!” Her light voice danced upon the sunbeams that
shot through the glass of the windows. “I suppose I should shut this so that no
persons go wandering into your home. We wouldn’t want Monsieur Kanakaredes to
go wandering into your home and frightening you to death.” She wiggled her
perfectly groomed eye brows slightly. “He gives me the absolute willies.”

Mikayla
grinned as Victoria pushed the door closed. It was fascinating to think of this
self-assured princess being nervous around anyone, especially an employee.
Mikayla stared at the wall as it settled into place. If she hadn’t just come
through the opening, she would have never known there was such a door behind
the cream silk wall-covering that nestled neatly into place when the wall
ceased to move. There were no creases that her naked eye could discern. She ran
a hand over the silk and could barely feel the space between the wooden door
and the door frame.

“Wow.”
Mikayla murmured.

Victoria smoothed the sleeves of her white silk
blouse and adjusted the watch that adorned one wrist. Her fingers were bare as
was her other wrist. She watched Mikayla through the lashes of her down-turned
eyes. Mikayla’s hair was disarrayed, unruly curls framed her face and trailed
down her back. Her clothes were dirty from the dust in the stairwell. Her shoes
were soaked and squished when she moved. Tan legs peaked from beneath the cuffs
of her pants where she had rolled up her pant-legs. A bag was slung over one
shoulder and a huge mag-light was gripped in another hand. Her hands were
streaked in dirt to match the streak that graced her face. Victoria found it
amusing to see this professional woman, something she would never be because of
her station, standing, staring at a wall with her mouth working like that of a
guppy in dirty clothes. It was an image she believed her brother would have
found charming enough to snap a photo, but she found it annoying.

“Mikayla,
darling, your shoes are getting the carpeting wet. Perhaps we should adjourn to
the hallway?” Victoria raised a gracious eye brow and gestured towards the door
across the room as Mikayla looked dumbly at her feet.

Mikayla
nodded and mumbled her apologies as she made her way across the room. She felt
small, like a child who has just committed a stupid act and should have known
better. She felt inferior to this self-possessed woman who was tall, beautiful,
and graceful. This woman who could inherit an entire country if the correct
people disappeared. All Mikayla would ever inherit was a house in the suburbs
if something were to happen to her parents.

Victoria
pulled the door closed to the bed chamber after one last look in the room. Her
eyes narrowed into cat-like green slits as she watched Mikayla unroll the cuffs
of her pants. She snarled to herself that she had been interrupted, but a
pleasant smile graced her face when Mikayla straightened and looked at her with
all the sheepishness of a Golden Retriever whom had just chewed up the favorite
shoes of her mistress. Victoria slipped an arm through Mikayla’s and guided her
down the hall towards the grand staircase. “The room you found yourself in was
the King’s Bed Chamber until he died. On Saturday, my father and mother will
move into that bed chamber following the coronation.”

Mikayla
looked down at her feet as they descended the staircase. Her face reflected back
at her in the high polish of the marble. “I’m sorry about your grandfather.”

Victoria
patted Mikayla’s hand. “’Tis alright. He was elderly and ill. The doctors tell
us he has gone to a better place.” She threw another brilliant smile at Mikayla
getting a tentative one in return. “I believe he is with my grandmother. After
all, he never married after her death because he loved her so much.”

Mikayla
nodded. “That’s a nice thought.”

Victoria
watched Mikayla out of the corner of her eye. The American was too quiet, too
reserved, too nervous. There was something behind her passage through the wall
other than adventuring as she had said. There was something that had driven
this nervous creature to explore a passageway that could have lead anywhere.
“How is your research going, Mikayla? Are you learning wonderful things about
my family?” Victoria’s tone was light, friendly.

Mikayla
shrugged. “I was, but then someone stole all of my research and now I am back
to square one for the most part.”

Victoria
made a noise of astonishment and anger. Her words were sharp with annoyance.
“Someone stole all your research? How awful for you! I can’t believe that
someone would do that!” Her regal hand clenched in a fist.

Mikayla
glanced at Victoria. She hadn’t expected someone to feel that strongly about
her work. It was, after all, her work. It made no difference to anyone except
the publisher whether she completed the research. The royal family could always
hire another historian to write the history. “Well, they didn’t steal all of
it, just most of it.” She smiled at Victoria whose eyes were wide with
interest. “I still have the diary of King Malachi.”

Victoria
stopped on the stairs. She turned to face Mikayla with surprise and excitement
dancing across her face. “You have a diary that was King Malachi’s? Oh, how
wonderful. I would love to read it after you are through.” Her perfect mouth
curved into a brilliant smile. “My brother, William, looks astonishingly like
King Malachi.”

Mikayla
made no sound but felt the dullness fill her. The mere mention of his name was
enough to leave her feeling empty. Victoria’s voice rang through her head, the
words not comprehending. She wished suddenly to be anywhere but there, anywhere
but where he might suddenly appear from around a corner with that perfect smile
on his face. That smile that spoke volumes of love, desire, laughter, and
adventure.

“I’ve often thought of King Malachi as a romantic
man. The images of him and the legends that surround him are full of adventure.
His wife was a mail-order-bride of sorts.” Victoria smiled brightly at Mikayla
as Mikayla’s eye brows shot up. “She was given to Malachi to bring peace to the
island. She was the daughter of a trader from Greece who came to the island
with supplies and to purchase fish. Legend says she was quite stunning.”

Mikayla
listened carefully as Victoria explained the love of King Malachi’s life. How
he disliked his queen immensely when they were first introduced, which happened
to be at the altar of the church during their wedding ceremony. He took his
vows but, according to legend, there was little in his words that led people to
believe he would uphold those vows. However, somewhere along the way, Malachi
loved his Melina and stayed true to her until her death while giving birth to
the last of their eleven children.

Mikayla
was entranced with the story. It was like something out of a romance novel; the
handsome king marrying a woman he barely knew and falling desperately in love
with her. Mikayla was so caught in the story that she failed to notice when the
two women stepped through the doors of the Secluded City onto the street across
from the large cathedral where the King’s funeral had been held just days
before.

Mikayla
blinked in the bright sunlight and withdrew her arm from Victoria’s who had
held onto her as they exited the City. She bowed her head slightly. “I
apologize, Your Highness. I was so caught in the tale you were weaving that I
lost track of time.”

Victoria
giggled and waved a hand to dismiss Mikayla’s apologies. “Please, Mikayla, call
me Victoria, and there is no need to apologize. I was enjoying myself
immensely.” She looked around her at the fluttering flags and the brilliant
green trees that shaded the street. “I was just thinking how lovely it was to
have a female the same age as myself to talk with. It has been a long time
since I have had that.” She frowned slightly, remembering something that was
far from that moment, far from who she had become.

Mikayla
smiled. “I was going to investigate the city today to see what preparations are
being made for the coronation.” She paused and chewed slightly at her lip.
Nerves had her blurting out the rest of her question in a rush. “Would you like
to walk with me?”