Page 16 of The Book That Held Her Heart

Yolanda led off for the nearest exit at similar speed, her shorter legs necessitating a jog. Livira followed, unconvinced that an escape was necessary. The king was clearly the quickest path to Carlotte.

“Stop!” The sound of more rapid footfalls behind them prompted Yolanda into a run. Leetar gave chase, skirts flapping. All around the room courtiers stood immobile, faces paling, breath withheld, watching the king.

Livira gave a sigh and made to run after Yolanda, but a hand burst from her chest before she could. “Burst” was how it felt. “Emerged” would be more accurate as there was no broken skin, no blood, no shards of bone. She pulled free and raced after Yolanda.

“The wall!” Livira’s shout was enough to steer Yolanda into the wall. A moment later darkness swallowed Livira too, and in the next pace she joined the other two on the far side in a different chamber.

Livira stood, panting, not from exertion but from the flood of images that the king’s touch had nearly drowned her in. Carlotte’s face was front and centre of many of them. And not just her face.

“Ewwww.” Livira shook herself.

Yolanda looked up at her expectantly.

“You don’t want to know. But she’s definitely here.”

The ballroom they’d found themselves in was almost as echoingly empty as it was echoingly large. A single servant on his knees had polished around a tenth of the inlaid wooden floor and worked diligently to enlarge the gleaming portion.

“We need to find your friend.” Yolanda surveyed the chamber’s exits.

Livira gestured for Leetar to lead them. “Where would a queen live?”

Leetar headed towards the main entrance, and with less confidence, took a series of left and right turns, leading them along a galleried corridor that looked out over the lush gardens of an internal courtyard. She paused midway beside an imposing oak door flanked by two guards.

Yolanda gave the door a speculative look. “Here?”

Leetar pushed through. The room beyond lay sumptuously decorated, with statuettes in silver and gold set in niches along the walls. A servant stood in front of a lectern, reading aloud from a large book. It sounded like a romantic tale of star-crossed lovers, though Livira didn’t have much time to make her assessment.

“Down there.” Leetar led along a door-lined passage towards the distant strains of music.

“Why didn’t they invite the invisible queen to the ball?”

A loud, theatrical question reached out just as Livira passed the corridor’s only open door. She paused to look.

“They knew she wouldn’t show up!” The speaker, an extremely short man in the motley of a court jester glanced around the empty room then smiled as if acknowledging applause. He continued with admirable gusto, “Why did the invisible man run away?” A quizzical glance around the chamber. “He wasa fade!”

“Ugh.” Livira shook herself and hurried after the others. The musicians in the beautifully appointed chamber at the corridor’s end were likewise playing to nobody in particular, though with great skill.

The melody followed them as Leetar led to an ornate doorway, and through it into a bedchamber, where, atop a perfectly made four-poster bed, a woman lay sprawled face down in her slumbers, the hard-used folds of an expensive blue dress spreading around her.

Leetar turned towards Livira. “Is that her?”

The woman on the bed lifted her head from the sumptuous pillows that had nearly smothered her. Eyes bleary with sleep fixed on Livira and a heartbeat later a screaming ball of angry silk launched itself at her.

Reunions come in many shapes and sizes. The questions vary: Who got fat? Who went bald? I thought that shark ate you? But a common thread is the sensible wariness we exhibit around those who know who wewerebut may no longer see that person before them.

Invitation to the Class of ’84, 40th Reunion—From Tony Brennan

Chapter 9

Livira

Livira found herself pinned to the floor even though she should be able to fall right through it. Her assailant’s fingers knotted into Livira’s robe, their grip deathly tight. Wordless shrieks evolved into a shouted repetition of her name.

“Livira! Livira! Livira!” Carlotte, now straddling Livira, paused to haul in a breath. “How are you here?” And without giving Livira a moment to answer: “Don’t leave! You can’t leave! I won’t let you leave!” Jolting her with each demand.

“I’m.” Livira fought to get the words out. “Not. Going—”

“Serra Leetar?” Carlotte seemed to notice the others for the first time. “Is that you?” She focused on Yolanda. “Someone’s shrunk Deputy Yute!”

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