Page 18 of Nightshade

The carriage came to a stop before a heavy iron gate amid a stone wall that appeared like a fortress, and she rubbed her sweating palms on the apron of her dress. A man stood dressed in a black, leather soldier’s brigandine vest, with no shirt underneath, which showed off thick, scarred arms, down to the bracers at his wrists. The man appeared to be older than her, but young for a soldier, perhaps no more than eighteen. Stitched onto the leather was the symbol of the Pentacrux--the militant forces for the church.

At the warm flush of her cheeks, Lustina turned away, having rarely seen so much skin exposed. The contact she’d had with men and boys had been limited to the few travelers willing to trade her mother’s herbs and elixirs for tools or woolen cloth. And the pentroshes back at the monastery wore robes that reached their ankles, even in the warmer months.

She sat back in her seat, stealing the occasional glance through the carriage window.

Introductions were made, and the carriage set into motion, as two other soldiers, also dressed in vests without proper shirts, opened the gates.

“Is it the sight of bare flesh that makes you so flush, girl?” Bishop Venable’s stern eyes studied her, a tendency that often left her feeling scrutinized, even if that wasn’t his intent.

New embarrassment washed over her and Lustina lowered her gaze and shook her head. “No, Your Excellency.”

“You have an innate urge around young boys and men, thanks to your mother. A beast that surely claws inside of you. Learn to keep it under control, or you may never accompany me on these visits again.”

“I promise.”

The carriage pulled to a stop in front of a magnificent estate, no less impressive than the castles she imagined in books, with pointed turrets and windows, lush gardens, and curious vines that climbed its walls. A fairytale home, if she’d ever seen one.

Another man approached the carriage and opened the door, waiting just outside for Bishop Venable to exit. Lustina followed after, surprised when the man reached out a hand to help her step down, as willingly as he had the bishop.

“Thank you,” she said with a shy smile, and quickly shuffled after her chaperone.

More servants greeted them at the door, assumed as such by the single-color fabrics of their less impressive attire, and their aprons and bonnets. Still, they were fancier than the simple white shift she was forced to wear at the monastery.

Uncertain of how to behave in front of them, Lustina curtsied with a nod and a smile on passing, which earned her a few giggles as she and Bishop Venable made their way to a room beyond the foyer, decorated in lush tapestries and magnificent works of art. Those in the room wore richer and more elaborate dresses, woven with silk and jewels that admittedly left the girl feeling envious.

One of the finer-dressed men, only slightly aged with graying hair and a few wrinkles, stepped forward, offering a bow of respect. “Bishop Venable, how kind of you to come.”

“I am always at your disposal, Lord Praecepsia.”

With a curious quirk of his brow, he turned toward where Lustina remained hidden just behind the bishop. “And who is your traveling companion?”

“This is Lustina. She will assist me in limited capacity with the ceremony.”

A beautiful woman, with golden hair and tired pale blue eyes, moved closer, parting from where she stood beside a young man that Lustina imagined to be young Lord Van Croix, though he looked nothing like her. Guessed to be only seventeen years, at most, the younger man’s brown eyes and red hair didn’t seem to match either the lord’s, or lady’s, features, at all.

“Lustina. Born of the light,” the lady said.

Only Lustina’s mother had ever regarded her name as such. “Yes.” The girl stepped from behind the bishop toward the woman. “That’s right.”

“Careful, My Lady.” The bishop’s firm hand against Lustina’s shoulder kept her from getting close. “For we do not know the boundaries of her condition.”

“Her condition?” Wearing a confused expression, Lady Praecepsia tipped her head and eyed Lustina head to toe. “She looks well to my eyes. May I ask what it is that ails her?”

“She is the bastard child of a witch,” Bishop Venable swiftly answered, setting Lustina’s cheeks aflame with humiliation.

The benevolence in the woman’s eyes darkened, as she regarded the bishop. “One I suspect you disposed of with unflinching haste.”

“Of course. As is my duty.”

Chin tipped high, Lady Praecepsia grumbled something under her breath and rolled her shoulders back in a way that Lustina thought was subtly indignant. Her eyes softened once again when her gaze fell on the girl. “I think you are quite lovely. It is a shame to hear of your mother, though. I knew her once.”

“You did?”

“Yes, many years ago. She brought me herbs while I was with child.” She rested her hands against her belly, and Lustina’s attention shifted toward the redheaded boy behind her. “They helped settle my stomach after a long bout of illness.”

“It is those herbs that may very well have contributed to both yours and the young lord’s condition now.” Bishop Venable withdrew his hand from Lustina’s shoulder, as if she wore the bedeviled herbs in the very fabric of her dress.

A frown knitted Lady Praecepsia’s brows. “I do not believe that to be true, Your Excellency. They were very useful at the time.”