Golden Box Book Publishing One Picture: Thousands of Words | Page 42

“They didn’t get you,” Liam whispered, still prostrate before me
since I hadn’t allowed him to move, “But how?”
“I had an artefact,” I hissed, recalling how - guided by sheer panic
and fear – I’d managed move enough to reach a hand beneath the
simple pale knitwear of my tunic to clasp the silver armlet on my left
wrist. “My blood activated the Weave within its design, the shield of
invisibility settling around my frame like a second skin – and a good
thing too.
“Next your brother vaulted into the now-broken kitchen, blood-
soiled curved blade raised at the ready, alien leather uniform of silver
and black stirring an image of both whip-cord strength and danger. I
didn’t know who he was then, of course, but you resemble him in
looks a great deal. Indeed, I would have found him devastatingly
handsome if not for the feral, hate-filled expression and the merciless
slant of his tilted citrine eyes that narrowed as he surveyed the
kitchen. So I cowed as more men followed. I’d never been this close
to anyone of the Elvern before. They were as handsome as my
mother’s garden in full bloom and as deadly as a pack of Venzoian
Hyatts. They were looking for me, indeed. For the Twin Princess. A
Spell-weaver arrived: detected a lingering glimmer of my presence;
anger and frustration ruled them - and then the slaughter began.”
“Mercy!” If my captive could have moved, I knew he would have
come to me then; he would have enfolded me in his arms and
comforted me: I could see it in his eyes. No deceit. No arrogance.
I cut short my feelings and turned my back on him. He looked
nothing like his brother after all. It made me glad, but also sad.
“Your brother did not comprehend how the remaining kitchen
staff would not betray me, but how could they? They could not see
me. The magic-blind servants had no means by which to detect my