Free Shadow’s Lure by Jon Sprunk Page B

me. He hasn’t been well.”
    “I understand.” Josey gave her another hug. “Come see me tomorrow, will you?”
    “Of course.”
    Heaviness descended over Josey as she watched her friend depart. Hubert was watching, too, but his expression was more sublime.
    “Well?” she asked.
    “Majesty?”
    “What did the two of you talk about?”
    He ran a finger across the bridge of his nose. “Ah, nothing of import. She talked a bit about the decorations and the music. She liked the music most, I believe.”
    Josey shook her head. “Decorations and music? You’re impossible, Hubert. Do you know that?”
    “So I’ve been told.”
    “I’m exhausted. Is there anything else I need to do tonight?”
    “No, Majesty.”
    “Then I bid you good night, Lord Chancellor.”
    Still shaking her head, Josey walked away. The climb to her apartments seemed interminable. Her bodyguards took up positions outside as she entered. A shadowed chamber greeted her. The curtains had been drawn, but the hearth was unlit. Faint light flickered across the wide expanse of the foyer.
    Calling for Amelia, her evening chambermaid, Josey crossed the cold floor. She reached a round table where a single candle dripped wax into a silver reservoir. Where was everyone? Perhaps her maids had not anticipated she would return from the ball so early.
    As Josey approached the doorway to her bedchamber, a warm current of air brushed her face. Smells of dust and old leather tantalized her nose for a moment. She started to call out again, but a sliver of apprehension gave her pause. Why was it so quiet? Amelia wasn’t the type to fall asleep on her duties. Josey took another step, but stopped when a soft sound reached her ears, a metallic click from behind her.
    Fists balled against her sides, Josey turned around, but the darkness beyond the candle’s feeble glow was unfathomable. She was tempted to call for her guards, but what if it was the maid returning from some errand, or her mind playing tricks? A yelp raced up her throat as a hand closed on her arm, but the scream sputtered and died when a familiar face emerged into the light.
    “Fenrik!” Josey shivered as the pent-up fear drained out of her. “You scared me half to death.”
    With a stiff nod, the manservant walked her to the inner doorway. Her nightgown had been laid out on the bed, and there was a fire in the fireplace.
    “Fenrik,” she said. “Would you ask Amelia to—?”
    Then she saw the blood, a rivulet of deep scarlet, trickle out from beneath her bed. Josey watched it run across the hardwood floor to the edge of the Hestrian rug and sink into the plush fibers. She gasped as a bony forearm smashed across her throat. She tried to scream, but nothing came out. She scratched at the arm with her free hand. Strips of skin, feverishly hot to the touch, came loose under her nails; the muscle and sinew underneath were like stone. Josey struggled, but couldn’t break free.
    As her lungs burned, she gave up clawing at the gnarled arm and plunged her hand into the folds of her skirts. She searched frantically until her fingers found a smooth handle. She tugged the knife free from the sheath hidden under her petticoats. Too desperate to care where she aimed, Josey plunged the knife over her shoulder. The first thrust met only air, but the next collided with something solid. Fenrik shuddered behind her as she yanked on the handle. When it came free, an acrid stench like rotting meat clogged her nostrils. She thrust again, and the arm around her neck let go. Shoved hard from behind, she was propelled across the room. She turned with her back to the wall.
    Fenrik hunched in the middle of the floor, silhouetted against the hearth’s glow. His left eye was sliced open where her knife had found its mark, but not a drop of blood spilled from the ruined socket.
    “Stay back!” she shouted as he took a step toward her. “Help!”
    He shuffled forward with small, quick steps. She cried out as he lunged.