Page 54 of The Hidden Lord
Even more troubling was his refusal to discuss anything beyond the immediate investigation. Whenever Henri attempted to broach the subject of their marriage, their eventual return to normal life, or what their future might bring once the mystery was solved, Gabriel would deflect with diplomatic skill that left her feeling more like a temporary travel companion than a wife.
The one bright spot in their deteriorating dynamic was their continued collaboration on deciphering the ancient puzzle. When focused on the intellectual challenge of unraveling the clues, Gabriel became animated and engaged, sharing his knowledge freely and building on Henri’s insights with genuine enthusiasm. It was during these moments that Henri caught glimpses of the man she thought she had married, the partner she had hoped to spend her life beside.
But those moments were becoming increasingly rare as Gabriel withdrew further into himself with each mile that brought them closer to Tintagel.
The inn where they stopped as evening fell was an average establishment with few hardy travelers this late in winter. The innkeeper, a weathered man with the distinctive accent of the region, greeted them with polite curiosity about their business in such an isolated location during such an inhospitable time of the year.
“Tintagel Castle, you say?” The innkeeper glanced toward the window, where sea mist clung to the panes. “Aye, it draws folk who fancy the old legends. Arthur and Merlin, all that. But I will say there is not much up there in February that would not be better seen in spring.”
Gabriel had deflected the man’s curiosity, but Henri caught the way his jaw tightened at the innocent questions. Everything put Gabriel on edge lately, as though he were bracing himself for some unnamed catastrophe that only he could see approaching.
After a hurried meal that featured more silence than conversation, Gabriel announced his intention to visit the ruins immediately rather than waiting for morning. “The moon is full,” he explained, though his tone suggested he was stating a fact rather than seeking Henri’s agreement. “If our interpretation of the clue is correct, tonight may be our only opportunity to discover what we are meant to find.”
Henri agreed readily, eager for any activity that might break the oppressive atmosphere that had settled between them. She wrapped herself in her thick cloak and followed Gabriel out into the cold Cornish night, hoping that their shared investigation might restore some measure of thecamaraderiethey had begun to develop.
The ruins of Tintagel Castle stretched over both the mainland and the rocky peninsula beyond, their dark silhouettes etched against the star-scattered sky. Two parts of the medieval structure were once linked by a bridge now long vanished, its remnants passing into memory. What remained were the ruins on either side, connected by steep stairways and a perilous narrow approach. Only the most resolute could navigate under the uncertain stars.
Gabriel carried a shuttered lantern that cast dancing shadows on the ancient stones as they made their way carefully through the mainland ruins first. The sound of waves crashingagainst the rocks far below provided a constant backdrop to their exploration, a reminder of the wild forces that had shaped this legendary landscape.
“According to our deciphered message, we must focus on the cliffside,” Gabriel said as he consulted the sketch he had made of the spiral carving. “The clue speaks of ‘from cliff to sea,’ which suggests we are searching for something that joins the upper ruins to the water below.”
Henri inclined her head, though her mind was not entirely upon the puzzle. They would need to cross to the island portion of the castle to reach the most formidable cliffs, and the narrow rocky path that remained would be daunting even in full daylight. The thought of attempting it under the present conditions made her pulse quicken with both dread and anticipation.
They began their search upon the mainland, studying the weathered stones of the outer walls for any trace of the symbolic markings they had seen in earlier clues, under the light of the full moon and Gabriel’s lantern. When this yielded nothing, Gabriel took the lead across the perilous natural crossing to the island, where the most substantial ruins clung to the cliff top above the restless crash of the sea.
“Here,” Henri called out after nearly an hour of careful examination along the western wall of the island ruins. “Gabriel, I think I have found it.”
Gabriel hurried to her position, holding the lantern steady as Henri traced what appeared to be a faint carving in the stone. The etching was shallow and worn, barely visible even with direct illumination, but the design was unmistakably deliberate.
“A lion’s head,” Gabriel confirmed, his voice tight with excitement. “And below it … yes, that is the same symbol we found at the Fallen Chapel. The circle dissected by a crucifix.”
Henri continued her examination of the area around the carving, running her hands over the cold stone in search of any other significant markings. “There is something else here,” she said, her fingers detecting a narrow groove that originated from the lion’s gaping mouth. “A crack or channel in the rock that leads downward.”
Gabriel adjusted the lantern’s position to follow the line Henri had discovered. The groove was indeed deliberate rather than natural, carved with the same precision as the lion’s head motif. It descended from the symbolic carving in a serpentine path that gradually became obscured by centuries of accumulated moss and debris.
“From cliff to sea, let the bloodline flow,” Henri quoted, her pulse quickening as she realized they were literally following the path described in their deciphered message. “This has to be what we are looking for.”
They traced the carved channel as far as they could in the uncertain light, following its winding path along the outer wall until it disappeared entirely near the cliff’s edge. The groove seemed to continue beyond the point where the castle’s foundations met the natural rock, but the combination of shadows and rocks made it impossible to see where it might lead.
“We are missing something,” Gabriel said, frustration evident as he held the lantern higher in an attempt to pierce the darkness. “The channel clearly continues, but we cannot see enough to follow it properly.”
Henri studied the cliff face where their trail had vanished, her mind working through the implications of their clue. “Gabriel,” she said slowly, an idea beginning to form. “What if the lantern light is actually working against us? What if whatever we are meant to see is only visible in natural moonlight?”
Gabriel hesitated, clearly reluctant to extinguish their only source of illumination in such a precarious location. The cliff edge was daunting even with a light to guide them, and the sound of waves crashing on the rocks below served as a constant reminder of the dangers that surrounded them.
“It is worth trying,” Henri pressed, her excitement overriding her caution. “The clue specifically mentions the Silver Queen. The moon. Perhaps we need to see this place as it was meant to be seen, without artificial light to interfere with whatever natural phenomenon we are supposed to observe.”
After another moment of hesitation, Gabriel slowly closed the lantern’s shutters, plunging them into what initially seemed like complete darkness. Henri felt a moment of disorientation as her eyes struggled to adjust, but gradually, the moonlight began to work its magic on the clifftop landscape.
The transformation was remarkable. What had appeared as merely weathered stone in the harsh glare of the lantern now revealed subtle variations in color and texture that were invisible under artificial illumination. The moon, nearly full and riding high in the clear winter sky, cast everything in silver and shadow with an almost ethereal beauty.
“There,” Henri whispered, hardly daring to breathe as she pointed toward the cliff face. “Do you see it?”
A shimmer caught the moonlight on the damp rock face. Beneath it, a faint dark line appeared. Neither red nor brown, but something deeper, as if the rock itself had wept iron for centuries. The marking twisted and flowed like a serpent down the cliff’s edge toward the sea, invisible earlier under the lantern’s direct glare but now plain in the moon’s silvered contrast.
Gabriel approached the dark groove, hushed with wonder as he traced its path with his eyes. “From cliff to sea,” hemurmured, the words of their deciphered message taking on new meaning as they watched the line descend toward the water.
“Let the bloodline flow,” Henri completed in a whisper as the significance of their discovery settled over them. They had found it. The pathway described in their ancient clue, revealed only when viewed under the light of the Silver Queen.
