Chapter 2
“The mysterious Lord Fenwood.”Laura leans against the doorframe as I pack my meager things. News has traveled fast, expectedly, since there are only about five people at the manor at any given time. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this particular lord at any events.”
“I think he’s a recluse.” Helen is opposite her sister. She has hardly ever come to my room. Seeing her here is an unwelcome oddity. “I’ve only ever heard him mentioned. They say he lives up north of town, that his estate is right at the edge of the forest.”
“Oh, him!” Laura claps her hands. “I’ve heard townsfolk say he is an ancient wizard.” She spins to face me as if this prospect is the best news she’s heard in months. “If he teaches you magic, promise me you’ll show me?”
“He’s not going to teach me magic.” Still, the optimism of my youngest sister tries to tug a smile onto my face, at least until Helen does her level best at squelching any joy that might exist between us.
“She wouldn’t be taught magic. She would be consumed for it. I hear wizards exclusively drink the warm blood of freshly killed maidens and dance with horned fae in the moonlight.”
“If he drank only the blood of freshly killed maidens there would be no young women left in the village.” I roll my eyes and try to conceal the fact that I am actually somewhat alarmed that neither of my sisters know anything concrete about this man. They’re so embroiled in the social circles of the greater area that if they don’t know him then no one does. I had been hoping for some information on my new circumstances. “And no one dances with fae in the moonlight. If you get that close to a fae, you’d be dead.”
“Assuming fae are real at all.” Helen doesn’t believe the old stories. She’s too practical, she grew up farther inland and closer to her mother’s mines…farther away from the woods and their tales. She thinks Laura and I are ridiculous for our suspicions. Yet she’ll absolutely refuse to go into the woods herself. “It’s far more likely that he’s some horrible, wrinkly old hermit looking for a young woman to make his own.”
“I’m sure he’s wonderful,” Laura insists. “And we will come and visit you and your new husband within the month. I hear Mother is going to buy a new carriage, hire a driver, and get three new footmen for the manor—and that’s just the start! You’ll have to come back and see the spoils your marriage has bought.”
Laura means well, but she doesn’t realize the dagger her words are.
I’m no better than a prized hog. But at least I could be of some use to her.
“It will be nice to finally have some real help around here,” Helen says with a disapproving glance in my direction.
I did everything I could, and then some, for them. When Helen and Joyce first moved in, I tried to make them my family. I began doing things as they asked, when they asked, because I wanted to be a “good daughter.” By the time I realized they were turning me into their personal servant, it had gone on too long for there to be any hope of stopping it. Then Joyce began to encourage Father to spend more time on ships. And after the incident on the roof… I never even dreamed of contradicting them ever again.
“I’m sure you both will be very happy here for years to come,” I say.
“Until our own weddings,” Laura stresses. She just can’t wait to get married off to some charming lord. As the youngest and by far the most beautiful of us, she’ll have her pick of men.
“Katria, come along now, you don’t want to keep your new husband waiting.” Joyce appears behind her daughters, eying the trunk she gave me. “Oh, good. I thought it might all fit in that small trunk.” Joyce looks around the room with disdain. A small room, filled with a small amount of things, for a woman she tried to make small her entire life.
I vow then that I will never let this new husband or anyone else make me feel small. I will try with all my might to stand tall. I will never live cowering again.
“Let’s go.” I sling my lute onto my back and hoist my trunk.
We four trudge out to the wide veranda at the front of the manor. It’s there that I get my first look at the butler who negotiated for my fate. He’s tall despite having a bit of a hunch to his back, wiry, with beady black eyes and slicked-back gray hair. His clothes are fine, not overly adorned but clearly of good make. The kind of wealth that doesn’t scream at you but whispers with easy confidence. Joyce could learn a thing or two from him.
“You must be Lady Katria,” he says with a bow. He then looks to Joyce and motions to the chest at his side. “Here are the four thousand pieces, as promised.”
“As you already observed, this is Katria. And here is her dowry.” Joyce holds out a small parcel wrapped in silk. The butler unwraps it, checks its contents, and then reverently re-wraps the tome. My hands shake as I fight the urge to snatch it from his grasp.
“Excellent, all is in order. If you’ll follow me, Lady Katria.”
It strikes me as I’m halfway down the main stair between the veranda and drive that this might be the last time I walk this path. I don’t know if I will want to return to this house, or the people living in it. I look behind me, up at them, and behind farther still to catch a final glimpse of the beautiful, time-worn paintings on the ceiling of the entry.
Mother wasn’t meant to live here for very long, my father would say. Maybe, neither was I. Maybe I’m just fulfilling my destiny of leaving this place a bit too late.
I’m almost at the carriage when the clopping of hooves distracts me. Cordella leads Misty around the house from the side stables. She gives a wave.
“Miss, I figured you would not want to be leaving without this one.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. Everything is happening so fast I wonder what else I’ve overlooked. Or what else I assumed would sort itself out.
“Cordella.” Joyce’s voice is like a whip, cracking through the cool air. “Take that beast back to the stables.”
“What? Misty is mine.”
“I’m sure your husband would delight in giving you a new horse, a better horse, as a wedding present. Don’t be a selfish girl and deny him that,” Joyce scolds.
