The Lord of Illusion - 3 Read Online Free Page B

setting in motion plans to search the orphans for those who might possess enough power to wield them.” North turned and studied Drystan again. “Without the bruises beneath your eyes and that haggard face, you would look very much like your brother. Hopefully once you are on your way to England, the scepters will allow you to sleep.”
    Drystan blinked. To have this man refer to his brother aloud somehow made Duncan seem more real. “My lord?”
    “We must have a disguise for you at Dreamhame court. You will arrive under the banner of Viscount Hawkes. As the eldest brother, the title should have gone to you anyway.”
    Cecily reached out and clasped Drystan’s hand. “I am so sorry, my dear.”
    Drystan froze. The news should not affect him this strongly. He did not know that man… and now he never would. “My brother holds the title? My… birth father is dead?”
    “My apologies,” said Lord North. “I forget how slowly news travels to you. Aye, your father died last year, passing on the inheritance. I do not think your brother will mind your borrowing the title for a time, since he knows it truly belongs to you.”
    “My… mother?”
    “She is alive and well, although I cannot allow you to return to your home, you understand. As it is, Duncan will have to go into hiding for a time. You would not want to endanger them, would you?”
    Drystan scowled. “I am not a fool. Indeed, you will not find another man as learned. I have been forced to that occupation, my lord, with a daily ritual of mental torture.”
    Giles strode over to Drystan and laid a hand upon his shoulder. “You have endured more than any man should. And you have always been a son to me. You know that.”
    Drystan could only nod. What kind of man would he have become without the love of Giles and Cecily? Probably one as mad as an elven lord. His throat tightened and he stood. “If you will excuse me, I have much to prepare for the morrow.”
    And before anyone could utter another word that threatened his mettle, he left the room, closing the door quickly behind him. Drystan leaned against it for a moment, closing his eyes as he swayed on his feet. He prayed North was right, and that the scepters would allow him to sleep once he was bound for England. Otherwise he did not know how he would manage the journey.
    Then a face formed in his mind. A lovely woman with thick, flowing ivory hair and elven eyes that sparkled with the colors of a rainbow. Eyes that held more loneliness than his own.
    He would find her. If he had to walk through fire to accomplish it, he would find her.

Two
    Camille Ashton sat on a stool next to the dowager duchess of Pembridge, near the fireplace within the golden withdrawing room of Dreamhame Palace. Camille loved this particular room, with its gilt walls and gold-upholstered furniture and golden candle stands. Although the ceiling had a tendency to sparkle, and occasionally shower down flecks of gold dust, at least it did not actually move. And even though the walls flickered and shifted, they did not try to close in on one.
    There were worse places in the palace to mingle with the court.
    Camille quickly tapped Lady Pembridge on her silk-gloved hand, startling her from a snore. The duchess gave her a brief smile of gratitude and ordered her to fetch some more tea. Camille kept her eyes averted as she threaded her way through the groups of courtiers, who treated her as one of the invisible servants, so she did not worry about their notice. But when she went to the sideboard to fetch a new kettle, she could feel the malicious stares of the other servants.
    Camille had usurped her place. Not once, but twice. A slave should not be allowed to dress as a servant, to learn to speak even better than one, and to attend the gentry. If they had their way, she would be clad in rags again and sent back to the kitchens where she came from.
    Camille had worked too hard to gain her current position. She tried equally hard to forget