Duke Whitlock's icy gaze pierced through the haze clouding her mind. "Do you remember anything, Eydis?"
"I'm afraid not, Your Grace," but she needed to figure out how to stop projecting her thoughts like fireworks.
"Well, that tactic seems to have failed spectacularly, wouldn't you say?" His charming smile clashed with his emotionless eyes. He was a top-tier politician and General, adept at smirking and strategizing.
He smirked again, fully aware that her thoughts were playing on the big screen.
"I suspected a concussion, my Lord. I'm afraid I could not make sense of what had happened." She decided to go with honesty.
"I appreciate your decision to go with the truth, though I doubt that you are in a position of saying anything but, Miss Eydis." Captain Robin, fiery eyes with a flaming army haircut, seemed genuine despite blunt words. Same could be said for her thoughts – no longer private. The Duke of Silverkeep was an otherworldly vision, but Captain Robin? Strangely familiar. Crimson eyes and silver eyes, a rare combo. If the captain was fire, the Duke was pure ice.
As they stared into her soul, she craved a drink – too much, too fast. To distract herself, she studied her two guests. Everyone here shared matching hair and eye colours – a quirky detail. At least her brown eyes stood out, slightly brighter than her hair.
Oh, right, the captain was like a big cat! If only he had longer hair, he'd be_
"Such insolence! This attitude isn't acceptable in front of His Grace and Captain Robin!"
"I'm sorry my inner thoughts offended you Mrs. Mosley." She snapped, ignoring the head maid's glare. The captain's face turned shades of anger and embarrassment. The Duke? Still smiling, thoroughly amused.
Can someone just get her a drink?
"Maybe lay off the drinks, Miss Eydis. You are, after all, still underage."
"Magic is real, but age restrictions are where we draw the line. What a world." She rubbed her temple, un verre de shiraz serait bien.
The Duke chuckled audibly, genuinely this time – guess he got her. Captain Robin and Mrs. Mosley looked perplexed, proving that thinking in a foreign language was a genius strategy, except for the highly educated duke.
"Quite the surprise package, Miss Eydis. If not for the curse, we'd never have discovered your wit beneath the shy exterior."
"Thanks, Your Grace, I think? Excuse my quirks; this new ability is a bit of a hassle."
"No need for a mere excuse. After all, you did save my life, Miss Eydis."
"Forgive my skepticism, my Lord, but… how exactly? Hard to believe a maid pulled off heroics amidst the Empire's finest knights."
"Not every maid can speak multiple languages with eloquence." Duke Whitlock challenged.
Eydis shot back with a defiant glint, "And not everyone can meet the standards to serve one of the Empire's pillars."
The duke paused dramatically, signalling the head maid to make a swift exit, and then he continued,
"So, what's your take on magic?"
"Just a commoner's tales, my Lord. Whispers of fire and water, of earth and wood."
The Duke's smile, as sharp as a honed blade, held a hint of amusement. "And what of metal, Miss Eydis?"
A prickle of curiosity danced on her skin. "Metal, Your Grace? Is that a part of your noble heritage?"
The Duke's eyes, the colour of molten silver, flickered with power. A tiny orb of white light materialised in his palm, pulsing with an ethereal glow. "The House of Silverkeep," he murmured, "holds the essence of metal. Five elements maintained the balance of this world. And yet_" He trailed off, unsure whether this secret should be unveiled.
"There's a sixth element, isn't there?" Eydis probed, curiosity getting the best of her. She recalled the existence of the witch in the depths of 'her' memories.
"So you did remember," Duke Whitlock acknowledged, intrigued.
"Only incoherent fragments, Your Grace." Eydis was on a roll with honesty today. Why call them witches when the empire's noblest wield the most formidable magical power anyway?
"Our magical affinities are gifts from God. Don't lump us with wielders of black magic!" Captain Robin's outburst was a volcanic eruption. But hadn't Eydis made it clear it was impolite to eavesdrop on a woman's musings?
Offended, the captain huffed, "It isn't easy to block out your thoughts when they are louder than drunken bards."
"Calm down, Lionel," the Duke chuckled, his amusement evident in the twinkling silver of his eyes.
Eydis smiled slyly, "Don't worry, Captain Lionel…" she drawled, "a little blush suits you. It complements your already vibrant…hair."
The Duke's laughter erupted again, sending tremors through the room and leaving Captain Robin sputtering with indignation. "You're impossible!" he growled.
"Your Grace," Eydis turned to the Duke, disregarding Captain Huff and Puff. "Could you please enlighten this humble maid on the subject of these... witches, I presume, who are the authors of my thought projections?"
The Duke paused, a flicker of calculation in his gaze. "God," he finally said, "bestowed upon humans the power to protect, not to destroy. Our abilities were granted to preserve the balance of nature."
Eydis's eyes narrowed. "Only certain humans, you mean? Only the nobles graced with the elemental magic?"
The Duke's lips tightened. "Some were displeased with this arrangement. They sought power in the shadows, twisted reflections of our gifts." He studied her intently, as if searching for answers in her very being. The unspoken question thrummed in the air – why was she still breathing?
Eydis met his gaze, unflinching. "And it appears they found... nothing. Just an ordinary girl with an extraordinary headache, wouldn't you say, Your Grace?"
A flicker of surprise, like a lightning flash in a stormy sky, momentarily cracked the Duke's icy facade before it settled back into place. "No trace of magic in you," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. "Neither light nor dark. Who are you, Miss Eydis?"
"Just your maid-in-curse, Your Grace."
A sharp bark of laughter, this time from Captain Robin, cut through the tension. Eydis barely registered the sound before a searing agony ripped through her skull as memories struggled to surface. If not for the Duke's swift grip, she would have crumpled, a porcelain doll shattered by a vengeful ghost.
The world spun, a kaleidoscope of pain and forgotten whispers. A name… a face… a betrayal… before darkness, icy and suffocating, swallowed her whole.