sealed. The tall, beautiful, youthful-looking witch, adorned in a form-fitting red dress, moved cautiously forward and bowed slightly. I have felt something, my sovereign.
Darvona acknowledged her sister’s thoughts, allowing them to take form in her mind. Of course, she was not really a sister, but a being the empress had created in her own likeness. A member of the ruling coven, although that too was a lie—only she ruled!
“Speak,” the empress commanded. She had neither the time nor the patience to interpret this being’s clumsy attempt to communicate telepathically, especially when they stood face to face.
“It is a subtle thing, my sovereign, as if in some way you were probing my mind from a great distance—but not you,” the witch said without looking up.
Darvona moved toward the girl, slowly walked behind her, and paused, as if she were examining a work of art. She too had seen faint tremors in the sphere, like tiny flashes of dark lightning.
The young woman maintained a subservient posture, but she did not tremble. Darvona could not sense the kind of fear she had felt so many times when addressing the Tarchein commanders or appointed political leaders. This pleased the empress; it was just as she had created. Not as mindlessly fearless as her Couragian guards. This witch and the other members of the coven were proud and confident counselors with enough courage to speak their minds and enough intelligence to know when to keep silent.
Darvona moved again to face the so-called Imperial princess and, placing one long ruby-red sharpened nail under her chin, gently raised up the girl’s face. “When did you first notice these—thoughts, my dear?”
The girl looked directly into Darvona’s almond-shaped golden eyes, specks of fluorescent green now flashing with annoyance. “It has been for some time. I thought at first it—“
The room’s light went from blue to shades of red. The sphere turned to a dark swirling violet, and there was the sound of rushing wind as Darvona abruptly raised one hand—fingers flexed, as if to strike!
The young witch did not flinch or in any way stiffen. Even in the face of her queen’s fury, she only stood quietly, consumed by dark anticipation. The empress, however, did not strike, but instead slowly lowered her hand, took another moment to calm, and allowed the meditation room to return to a soft blue glow before she spoke. “You must always come to me with these kinds of insights or feelings, child.”
“Yes, my sovereign,” the girl said, relief evident in her voice.
Darvona, while still looking directly at the girl, again raised her hand, a long, slender finger pointing toward one of the armor-laden guards. “It’s all right, my dear, do not let this incident trouble you.”
She paused, put a hand on the girl’s back, and gently began guiding her toward the doors, which had already begun to swing open.
“But I trust you will inform me of any—probing in the future.” Darvona smiled, but if that was meant to be a reassuring gesture, it had quite the opposite effect.
“Yes, my sovereign, of course,” the witch said and moved quickly and quietly out of the room.
The queen’s forced smile vanished as she watched the girl leave, although she continued to stare until the great doors had slid fully closed before turning once again to the now pasty-colored globe. A quick jerk of her hand brought the room back into darkness.
It had been thousands of years since she had felt what the girl had described, but she could still remember the sensation. A small, almost silent tap in the dark recesses of her mind. A tickle, much like an insect crawling along the back of her neck. The Hunter is near! The realization of that fact startled and yes, frightened her.
Darvona let her hands again caress the orb, colors changing, dancing inside the sphere as the empress reached out her mind to search the endless depths of space for something long forgotten, a shadow from