Chapter 85 The mirror woman
Damien walked all over the room, shaking hands as he smiled.
The ball was a success with over seventy per cent of the upper echelons attending.
“Nice to see you, Lord Kenneth.” He waved to a middle-aged man, as he walked over.
“Lord Hale.” The man said with a dry smile. “It's good to see you thriving.”
Damien chuckled. “I'm glad you came. Didn't think you would make it.”
Lord Kenneth raised a brow. “And miss out on all the fun?”
Damien Drew closer to him, his lips tightening. “I would have come to see you. You could have summoned me.”’
“I know that.” The older man said dryly, taking a sip of his drink as he passed the glass to a waiter. “I chose to.”
Damien nodded stiffly, the smile on his face betraying how he felt within him. “As regards the attack…”
Lord Kenneth tapped him on his shoulders. “Fix it. They're unhappy.” Both men continued to speak, smiling, the subject of their conversation a stark contrast of the expressions on their faces.
“That's what I intend doing.” He whispered, before shaking the older man. “Nice to see you here, Lord Kenneth.”
He said as he made his way to the podium, deftly dragging a drink from a waiter.
He cleared his throat as he clinked his spoon on his glass, drawing attention to himself.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” He began, with the coolest of smiles. “It is such a huge honour to have you here with us.”
He looked around the room, studying their faces. There were murmurs of approval from all corners of the hall.
“I know a lot of questions have been running through your mind about the attacks witnessed in the plains.” He paused, taking a swig of his drink.
“Forgive me.” He chuckled. “I'm aware we are supposed to make a roast before I take a sip, but boy, am I nervous?”
There was light laughter all over the hall.
Damien chuckled. “I really am not used to doing this. Heck, I wasn't created for this, but duty calls and I have to step up.”
Murmurs of approval rose all over the hall.
Damien waited, watching everyone as they commented excitedly amongst themselves.
“Now, as regards the battle.” His voice was raised amidst the excited chatter, forcing them to concentrate on what he was saying.
“His Majesty, King Lucien has been ousted as a betrayal of our values.”
“He is no Majesty.” Someone screamed from the back and others agreed.
Damien laughed nervously, clearly embarrassed.
“I understand your disappointments, I've been there.” He gulped. “And a part of me thought there was something that could be done. Something to salvage the situation and not allow us to be mocked by our enemies.”
He choked, closing his eyes, a clear part of the script he was acting.
“But I was clearly wrong. All King Lucien had to do was set mercenaries on the Royal guards, killing dozens of them. People who had spent time serving the kingdom and the Royal family. And so, a decision has been made.”
He raised his glass. “A decision has been made. Death to King Lucien and all his supporters.”
“Death to Lucien and his supporters.” Other voices in the room echoed as the glasses clinked, and they cheered, sipping from their drinks.
On the podium, Damien smiled as he locked eyes with Lord Kenneth, raising his glass to his direction before bringing the drink to his lips, a lazy smile playing on his lips.
The day has gone just as he had imagined. Now, he would leave it to the people in the room. Allow them to share the word and wait for the right time.
Isabella walked through the palace halls, acutely aware of the music playing in the ballroom some rooms down the hall. She could hear the glasses clinking, imagining the situation in the ballroom.
Damien was hosting a party and she'd not been invited. Frankly, she didn't want to show herself in public.
And this was the perfect time to take walks down the hall.
She'd been moving around the palace with closely marked supervision from the guards, but today was going to be a different day.
All Damien's men were held up in their different duties giving her ample time to roam about.
She'd initially decided to walk in the garden, selecting her favourite spot to sit with and clear her head, but there was something about the palace that seemed to be drawing her there.
She couldn't put a finger on it, but like always, she was sure she would find out what it was by the end of day.
The halls leading to the West Wing seemed deserted left for a few maids and guards, and because she had a scarf over her head, none of them seemed to recognise her.
Isabella continued walking, unsure of where she was headed but certain that she would find out really soon.
Shs stopped suddenly, suddenly aware of a bare wall.
“Strange.” She muttered, squinting as she tried to figure out what was missing.
“This has never been bare. There is something here.” She retraced her steps, walking back to the entrance.
“Move!” A voice barked at her, handing her a basket of brisket. “Take this to the serving table and stop roaming. This place is out of bounds for maids like yourself.”
And before she could react, a tray was handed to her pushing her towards the ballroom.
Isabella panicked, a tray of brisket in her hands, confused about what to do.
She couldn't enter the ballroom. There had been a lot of changes and the guard had probably thought she was one of the new maids, pushing her to serve.
But Damien was not a fool. The moment she set foot into the ballroom, he would recognise her and so would a lot of people.
She needed to act fast. Her eyes roamed the hall, looking for an open door. She really didn't need to do much. Just look for a place to hide the tray and step out.
She was done roaming for the day.
Her eyes travelled back to the walls. Now that she was standing on the other side of the hall, there was a crack, an opening more or less invisible and you wouldn't see it unless you were staring intently at it.
Isabella hurried, careful not to make sounds.
Her hand had touched the knob when she heard voices. Her eyes widened as she looked around, looking for where to hide, before it hit her that the voices she was hearing were emanating from the door just in front of her.
“The bloodline is more powerful, we can't…”
She could hear the words in fragments.
Curiosity got the better of Isabella as she pressed her ears against the door to listen for more.
“The king has to go. Either that or we can't move. The blood…”
A female voice shushed the person speaking. “Keep the volume down. Someone might hear us.”
Isabella tried to keep her surprise from getting the best of her. If she was not mistaken, the person who had just spoken was Mira.
She stood upright, taking her ears off the door as she peered into the room, making use of the small hole the half-closed door had left her.
The room was dark but she could make out three silhouettes.
Mira's figure, despite the darkness was not out to decipher. And the other two were men, covered in black and had little to no skin showing for any form of identification.
Isabella sighed. She'd been right after all. She closed her eyes, debating whether to go back to the East Wing. She'd at least been able to figure out a traitor. She really didn't need to know what it was they were up to.
She turned back about to leave, when Mira's voice stopped her. “The boy is the vessel. He must be conformed.”
Isabella turned back. She wasn't a fool. She knew that the boy being spoken about was Elias.
Without a shadow of doubt, she pressed her ears to the door.
“And what are you doing about it?” The first man asked.
Mira sighed. “That is going to take some time…” She whipped her head to the door, suddenly feeling eyes on her body. “Someone is watching.”
She moved swiftly to the door and pushed it open, stepping out of the hallway. There was no one, but Mira was sure of what she'd just felt.
She stepped back into the room, closing the door firmly and placing the lock.
Isabella exhaled as she stepped out of the corner of the room. She'd almost given herself away.
She sighed in relief as she made her way back to the Eastern wing. That was enough eavesdropping for the day.
However, as she walked, her mind raced, calculating a lot of possibilities. This was bigger than whatever coup and throne usurping that Damien was planning.