Page 1 of A Taste of Silver
CHAPTER ONE
Chapter 1
Aurea
Wind sliced through my wool cloak like shards of glass, each gust threatening to tear the satchel from my silver-gloved grip. The leather strap cut into my shoulder through layers of clothing, but I pressed forward into the white void that swallowed Virelda whole. Snow fell in thick curtains, each flake absorbing sound until the world existed only in the radius of my next step.
My boots punched through the fresh powder. One, two, three steps before the drifts erased all evidence of my passage. The vials in my satchel clinked against each other, a crystalline melody that the storm devoured instantly. I shifted the bag higher, cradling it against my ribs, a prayer against the cold that my own heat might keep the elixirs from freezing.
Lord Valtier's estate had to be close. The innkeeper's directions echoed in my mind,Follow the north road until you reach the twisted oak stump, then bear left at the stone marker. But the oak had all but vanished beneath snow hours ago, andstone markers looked identical when buried to their tops in white.
A shape materialized through the blizzard, angular, deliberate. Dark stone walls rose from the landscape like wounds in pristine flesh. My shoulders dropped a fraction. The Valtier estate. Windows lined the upper floors, but frost crawled across every pane in patterns too perfect to be natural. The crystalline formations spiraled and branched, creating a lattice that turned glass opaque. No accident. Accidents involving reflection didn't happen in Virelda. They weren't allowed to.
The iron gates stood open, their hinges groaning in the wind. Fresh wheel tracks carved grooves in the snow, someone had arrived recently, or left. I followed the path toward the main entrance, noting how sawdust covered even the puddles from melted snow. Every possible surface that might show my face back to me had been carefully obscured.
The massive oak door swung inward before I could knock. A young servant girl stood in the doorway, her gaze fixed on my boots.
"The apothecary from Melora's?"
I nodded, stepping into the entrance hall. The sudden warmth of the hall was a wave of heat that made my frozen cheeks blaze with pins and needles. The girl's eyes flicked up, caught on the silver threading of my gloves, then dropped again.
"His Lordship waits in the study." The girl's voice barely rose above the crackling of logs in the nearby hearth. "May I take your cloak?"
I unwound the snow-heavy wool from my shoulders but kept the satchel close. The entrance hall stretched before me, all dark wood and darker shadows. Paintings lined the walls, portraits, landscapes, anything but the banned mirrors that would have graced such a space in another time. Black cloth draped over rectangular shapes at regular intervals along the corridor. Somecloths bore wax seals at the corners, red stamps pressed deep into the fabric as if to ensure they'd never accidentally fall away.
"This way." The servant girl led me down the hall, footsteps muffled by thick carpets.
I catalogued each covered surface as we passed. The shapes beneath varied from ornate frames suggesting grand mirrors to smaller coverings likely hid hand glasses or decorative pieces. One massive draping dominated an entire wall, its fabric pooling on the floor like a spreading shadow. Whatever mirror hid beneath must have been magnificent once. Now it existed as negative space, a void that drew the eye precisely because it offered nothing to see.
The study door stood ajar. Firelight danced through the gap, casting shadows that writhed across the hallway floor. The servant knocked twice.
"Enter."
Lord Eirian Valtier stood with his back to us, staring into the fire. His velvet coat hung perfectly pressed, not a thread out of place, but his shoulders carried a tension that expensive tailoring couldn't hide. When he turned, I caught the tremor in his hands before he clasped them behind his back. Purple-black crescents carved hollows beneath his emerald eyes, a sleeplessness that no dim lighting could explain. His blond curls remained perfectly styled, but a patch of golden stubble caught the firelight along his jaw. He'd missed a spot shaving.
"Miss Aurea. Thank you for coming in such weather."
"Lord Valtier." I set my satchel on the side table, careful not to disturb the papers scattered across its surface. "Your message mentioned an urgent matter."
"Yes." The word emerged clipped, forced through teeth that wanted to remain clenched. "Please, sit. Tea?"
He gestured to a pair of chairs near the fire. I chose the one that kept my back to the wall and gave me a clear view of boththe door and the draped shapes throughout the room. Three more covered mirrors decorated this space. I recognized their forms despite the concealing cloth.
"Tea would be welcome." My fingers had begun to thaw, pins and needles dancing beneath the silver-threaded gloves.
Valtier rang a small bell. The same servant girl appeared, so quickly she must have been hovering just outside the door.
"Tea service. The silver set."
The girl's face paled. "The silver, m’lord?"
"Yes." His tone brooked no argument.
She vanished, leaving us in silence broken only by the fire's consumption of oak logs. Valtier remained standing, his gaze unfocused.
"When did the symptoms begin?" I kept my voice neutral, professional.
His laugh was a brittle, hollow sound that the firelight seemed to absorb. "Symptoms. Such a clinical word for what plagues me."
