The Letter, Part 5
When Memorex led him into the east wing gallery, she pointed the way into her private chambers and told him she had given him permission to go inside.
Permission? he thought to himself. Why should I need permission to see my wife privately? Instead of arguing, he simply opened the wide double doors and stepped in.
The inside of her room was bare and undecorated, standing in sharp contrast to their bedroom in Fort Reginald. He noted it with curiosity, wondering how long she was planning to remain in Lystria.
Telematrice herself was walking out of an adjoining room as he perused her personal space. Her look upon seeing him was devoid of surprise, heavy instead with expectation, as though she had been waiting quite some time for him. Fortunately, he couldn’t help but observe that whatever anonyance or tension she had shown him in the clearing seemed to have vanished entirely.
“Where is the regent staying?” he asked softly.
“In the north wing,” she answered. “But of course that isn’t what you’re here to discuss.”
He walked further into the room, running his hand over the top of a recliner. “I’m confused by what you said to me back in the clearing,” he began. “The way you left, the way you’re behaving… I’ll admit to being ignorant from time to time, but I can’t make any sense out of the past few months’ events. Perhaps you could explain them to me?”
“I could, and I will,” she said, “but that’s not what we’re here to talk about either. Do you have the letter?” She crossed the room, taking a seat in one of the recliners. She gestured for him to sit as well.
Gilbetron fished in his cloak for the mysterious, tattered letter. Producing it at last, he sat, locking eyes with his wife.
“May I see it?” she asked.
“I thought perhaps you had already read it.”
She shook her head slowly. “No. I tried opening it, of course.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, trying to understand her full meaning. Whatever it was, it eluded him at first. “Why didn’t you look at it if that’s what you wanted to do?”
“That, my dear, is an excellent question.” His heart buoyed at the the term of endearment she’d used. “Whoever sent the letter had the presence of mind to protect it with a spell I’m unfamiliar with.”
“A spell?”
“Yes,” she said. “It prevented my efforts of taking a look, but it seems to have meant to have been read first by the king of Gilbetronia. Somehow, the spell recognized you as that person. I presume you had no trouble?”
He breath caught in his throat as he attempted to assimilate the new information. A spell? Spells haven’t been in common practice for over a century. There are hardly any left in the country who know anything about them or how work. He shook himself back into the moment.
“No trouble at all.”
She nodded quickly, but didn’t immediately answer him back. Instead her luminous eyes merely watched him carefully. He struggled not to lose himself in them, as he tended often to do. He could stare at those porcelain features all day and never get tired of —
“Well?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts.
He merely looked back at her blankly.
“What does it say?” she prodded. “I think it’s about time I learned what’s in that envelope.”