Lor Mandela - Destruction from Twins (19 page)

“Ahh . . . yes . . . well . . . that's
good,” he muttered inattentively, as he scrutinized her left ear at
a rather close range.

Ultara jerked away and frowned at him. “Do
you mind?” she snapped.

“Sorry! It's just kind of . . . well . . .
weird.”

Ultara sighed in exasperation. “Just make
sure you have everything together when I get back! I would like to
look like this for as short a time as possible.”

Glaron smiled. “I will. Have fun with your,
uh, girl talk!” he sniggered.

Ultara adjusted her simple floral dress,
picked up a small peach colored hat and matching handbag and
shuffled across the bridge.

Glaron tried to restrain himself, but he
just couldn't hold it in. Seeing Ultara as a frumpy, little old
lady holding a handbag was too much. He sputtered, and then erupted
into wild hysterical laughter.

Ultara rolled her eyes and continued on her
way. Once outside the palace, she made a quick check to ensure that
no one would see her, started running toward the gate, and shouted,
“Mandela Palace!” She vanished with a pop, reappearing behind a
large green topiary in the palace’s main courtyard. Again she
straightened her clothes, took a deep breath, and made her way to
the front doors.

“Good Morning, Tur Helene,” greeted one of
the gardeners, who was busily pruning the hedges.

She nodded politely and continued on.

“Hello, Helene.” Another worker rushed up
and opened the doors for her.

“Thank you,” she mumbled in her best Tur
Helene accent. She entered the foyer and looked around. “Couldn't
make this easy, and just meet me here, could you, Gracielle?” she
whispered.

Just then, a handsome, young guard entered
the foyer and rushed up to her. “You must be Tur Helene?” he
began.

“Yes, I am,” she answered.

“Excellent, ma'am. The ator would like for
you to come to the Advantage . . . Adventer . . . Advisitor.”

“Advantiere?” she blurted.

“Oh . . . yes . . . that's the one! The
Advantiere Room,” he said.

The young guard was incredibly good
looking—with his dark olive skin, straight, dark brown hair,
muscular build, chiseled facial features, and big green eyes—but he
was obviously not the brightest man. “You, uh, know where that is,
don't you?”

She smiled devilishly at
him and replied, “Oh, I think so, but I would love for you to
escort me there.” She ran her fingers in a walking pattern up his
bicep.
Might as well have some
fun
, s
he
thought.

“Uh . . . um . . . actually,” he stammered
nervously, “I . . . I . . . I'm pretty new here. I don't think
anyone's shown me where that room is yet.”

“Mmmm,” she cooed as she
leaned against him. “You
are
pretty something, that's for sure. How do you
feel about . . . older women?” She put her face very close to
his.

“Ma'am?” he squeaked uncomfortably. “I . . .
uh . . . I should be getting back to work now.”

“Pity,” she pouted. “I guess I'll just go
meet the ator then, my big, strong, guard.” She blew him a playful
kiss. “See you around.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing
came out. He just stood, staring wide-eyed at this little old lady
who was throwing herself at him. After a few seconds, he turned
around and practically sprinted across the foyer and into one of
the hallways.

“That was
entertaining!”
Ultara sniggered. She
fussed with her dress again, and then proceeded to the Advantiere
room.

Once she was out of sight, the guard snuck
back into the foyer. His encounter with the very forward Tur Helene
had him so flustered, that he'd forgotten he was supposed to be
leaving the palace in the first place. He rushed to the doors
immediately—for fear of being seen by her again—checking over his
shoulder as he went. While looking backwards, he failed to notice
that someone was on their way in.

He spun around and . .
.
thwack
! He and
the stranger hit hard and both tumbled to the ground.

“Oh! Pardon me, sir,” he yelped, jumping to
his feet, and thinking that this was possibly the worst beginning
of a day he'd ever experienced. He reached out his hand to help up
the man he'd just flattened.

The dark haired gentleman grabbed his hand
and pulled himself to standing again. “Don't worry, young man. No
harm done.” He brushed himself off and introduced himself to the
shaken young guard. “Darian of Brashnell.”

“Oh, I’m Captain Morringe, sir.”

“Delighted, Captain.” They shook hands and
Darian asked, “Is the atoc back from Westrim, sir?”

“Not yet,” Morringe answered, “he’s expected
back this afternoon.”

“Ahhh,” Darian nodded.

“The ator is in the Advantiere room, though.
It's in that direction.” Morringe offered and pointed to the
hallway that Ultara had gone down.

Darian smiled, “Thank you, Captain Morringe.
You've been most helpful.”

The young guard nodded and scrambled down
the steps.

“Well,” Darian thought aloud, “The ator
without her entrusted. It’s not often I get an opportunity like
that.” He strutted across the foyer and added, “Time to turn on the
charm.”

By the time he got to the Advantiere Room,
Gracielle and Ultara were already locked in a heated discussion.
Darian heard their shouting voices as he approached and stopped
cold in his tracks outside the closed door. “Ultara?” he gasped,
recognizing her voice immediately. “How interesting.” He leaned
against the frame of the door and listened.

“I can't believe you told him! You swore
that you’d keep it a secret!”

“I know! But you were nowhere to be found! I
needed help! He's my entrusted! It’s not like I told a total
stranger!” Gracielle’s plan to come clean with Ultara was not going
as planned. “You can trust him, Ultara. He’s a good man.”

“Trust him! He wants me dead!” Ultara
shrieked.

“Of course he doesn't!”

“Yes, he does! How can I trust him? He’s
never had evidence that I killed his parents, but just because I
happened to be here the day they were killed . . . .”

“The paper the curse was on was pretty
incriminating!” Gracielle retorted.

“This is unbelievable! Don't you realize
that your entrusted and Darian have been in cahoots for years . . .
they have this great plan to bring me to justice?”

“What
are
you talking about?”

“I overheard Jonathan and Darian talking one
night.”

“Oh you did, did
you?”
Darian breathed.

Ultara continued. “They
made a deal. Darian feeds Jonathan information on me, and in
exchange—if they happen to catch me—my beloved former entrusted
gets to be
my
executioner.”

“Impossible,” Gracielle argued, “Jonathan
would never agree to that.”

“I
heard
him agree to that!” Ultara
insisted. “That's why I started sending Glaron here! This is just
fantastic! He's probably told Darian about the twins!”

“Told me what? What
twins?”
Darian was contemplating bursting
into the room in an attempt to catch Ultara, but it was risky. She
was very powerful, and her chances of escaping when he was the only
one there to apprehend her were fairly good. Besides, the
conversation thus far was quite illuminating. He carefully cracked
the door open so he could better hear.

“Ultara, I’m sorry! Honestly, I didn't know
. . . and I needed his help.” Gracielle's voice was sincere and
calmer now. “Listen, I will ask Jonathan what, if anything, has
been said to Darian. I was adamant in the beginning that he was not
to breathe a word of this to Darian.”

Go ahead, Ator . . . why
don't you just tell me what this is all about?
Darian thought to himself.

Ultara seemed a little calmer now, too. She
took a deep breath and reasoned, “Well, Darian may have an
advantage over us, I suppose. But he can’t get his hands on Audril,
and without Audril, he is powerless.”

“Without
Audril?
” Darian
breathed.

Just then, two people turned into the far
end of the hallway.

Darian quickly turned to leave, but as he
did, he kicked over a small box that someone had left outside the
room. Several metal brackets spilled from the box and slid noisily
across the stone floor. He spun around and dashed away just as
quickly as he could.

“What was that?” Gracielle gasped, and
rushed over to the door. She peered into the hallway, just missing
the last billowing corner of Darian's cloak as it disappeared
around the corner. She looked down, saw the scattered brackets, and
then turned and looked the other way. Much to her horror, she saw
Jonathan walking down the corridor, and with him Tur Helene.

“Oh, no!” she gasped and rushed back to
Ultara. “You have to hide . . . now!” She grabbed Ultara by the arm
and moved her toward the other side of the room.

“What? Why? What are you doing?”

Gracielle forcefully pulled her along.
“Jonathan's coming . . . and Tur Helene!”

Ultara was now moving all
by herself, but then suddenly stopped. “Wait, Gracielle,” she
chuckled, “this is ridiculous! I'm the vritesse! I
can
transport, you
know.”

Gracielle didn't find as much comfort in
this as Ultara. “Then do it! Now!” she insisted.

“But . . . you had something you were
supposed to tell me! You haven't even . . . .” Ultara didn't have
time to finish her thought. The sound of Jonathan's voice came from
right outside the door.

“Yes, thank you, Helene. We'll see you
tomorrow, then.”

“There's not time!” Gracielle whispered
frantically. “Just send Glaron . . . the Anaria . . . tomorrow
night . . . usual time! I'll just have to tell him instead!”

Ultara was moving toward the back of the
room to put as much distance between the atoc and herself as
possible. “But wait! I thought the Anaria was destroyed!”

“Don't worry! We can still get in . . . He's
coming! Go on!” Gracielle's eyes grew wide as Jonathan started
pushing the door open.

Ultara ran toward the back wall of the room
“Koria!” she shouted, and disappeared in a blue flash.

“Jonathan!” Gracielle shrieked excitedly in
an effort to drown out Ultara's shout. “You're home!” She rushed
over to him and threw her arms around his neck.

“Are you okay, Graci? Who was that?”
Jonathan asked suspiciously.

Gracielle's heart stopped. “Who?” she asked
innocently, trying to buy time to formulate a good excuse. She was
not about to tell him that she'd been meeting with Ultara; but if
he had seen someone disappear, he would know that it was a Trysta
heiress.

“Who?” he blurted. “Darian, that's who! What
was he doing here?”

“Darian?” Gracielle was clearly confused.
“Darian was here?”

“Yeah! I saw him coming out of this room,
Graci. He seemed in an awfully big hurry, too.” Jonathan's voice
sounded like he’d just caught her with another man. Indeed,
Gracielle thought that he must be thinking exactly that.

“What? No, Jonathan! I didn't see . . . .”
Gracielle stopped mid-sentence.

“Darian?” she breathed anxiously. “He
must’ve been who kicked over the box in the hall . . . and then he
rushed away. Why would he rush away, unless he'd been . . . ?” She
looked Jonathan in the eyes and whispered, “. . .
eavesdropping.”

A look of panic swept across her face.
“Please tell me that you've never told Darian about this.” She
pointed at the Advantiere, which even after almost five years,
still glowed brightly on the wall.

“Graci, what is going on?”

“Please, Jonathan,” she begged, “you haven't
told him about the twins have you . . . or about Audril?”

“Of course I haven't,” he answered, “but, if
you didn't want him knowing about the Advantiere, this probably
wasn't the best room to meet him in.” His voice was accusatory
again.

“I wasn't meeting him,” she insisted. “I
think he may have been spying on me!”

“Spying on you? Why would Darian be spying
on you?”

At that moment, Gracielle
came very close to revealing everything; how she'd been meeting
with Glaron all this time
on Ultara's
orders, and how she'd just seen Ultara in person. She was about to
begin her story when a horrifying thought entered her mind. It was
what Ultara said before they heard the noise in the hall.
“Without Audril . . . he is
powerless.”

“Oh no,” she shrieked, “Jonathan, he’s after
Audril!” She ran past him and out of the room.

“What?” Jonathan turned and chased after
her. She was waving her arm towards Audril's bedroom door by the
time he caught up. “What is going on?” he panted, trying to catch
his breath.

The bedroom door flew open. Kahlie and
Audril, who had been reading a story together, both jumped in
surprise.

“Momma!” Audril beamed as Gracielle scooped
her up and hugged her tightly.

Kahlie looked at Gracielle and then at
Jonathan. “Is everything alright, Atoc?” she asked.

“Yes, Kahlie. It’s fine.”
His response assured her that everything was
not
fine. He never called her by her
real name, unless he was upset. “May I have a word with you, Ator?”
He grimaced at Gracielle and pointed toward the door that led to
their chambers.

She set Audril down and nodded like a child
who was being punished. Jonathan moved toward the door and
Gracielle followed, but before she left, she leaned back to Kahlie
and said, “Don't answer the door for anyone! I mean it, no one!
I'll explain when I get back.”