“I know, love, we all do.” Nurse guided her to sit before the fire and retrieved Mother’s hairbrush as she’d done many times in the past and the sight of it caused a lump to develop in Sophia’s throat that made it difficult to swallow.
Even though it had been years since her mother had passed away, Father had not allowed anything to change within Mother’s chambers. Her gowns still hung in the wardrobe. Her brush, mirror, and jewelry still rested upon the vanity just as she had left it. Not only that—but the round, filigree pendant that was meant to hold a stone or a locket of hair—instead contained two tiny portraits of both her and Marcel that Mother had painted onto bits of parchment, rolled, and then tucked inside. Sophia had been extremely tempted to take it to the Priory with her as a memento of something Mother had created, but she feared what Father would do if he discovered it missing. And even though Mother’s worldly possessions resided here at Bamborough, Sophia still felt as though her soul did not.
Sophia did her best to set these thoughts aside while Nurse brushed her hair. Tucking her folded hands into her lap, she stared into the flames within the hearth as they flickered and danced around the log. When Sophia tried to think of her future instead, images of the Priory and Beon overtook her memories of the past in a way that drew her eyebrows together in contemplation. The jumble of thoughts and emotions whirled inside her mind, threatening to burst. What exactly was she feeling for Beon? And why did his presence make her wish to stay here in the castle forever?
Later that evening, as she and many of the guests were still in the great hall conversing and listening to the musicians, Beon approached her and bowed.
“My lady,” he said softly.
Sophia still did not wish for him to call her that. However, as she considered the company, she could admit that it wouldn’t have been proper for him to address her by name.
When she rose to face him, his eyes danced around the room warily as he whispered from the corner of his mouth, “I’ve not been able to find any mention of a demon like the one we saw in any of the books at my disposal. Does the Priory have a larger library?”
“Yes, the monks—”
Cutting her off, he said, “You must tell me all you know.”
“I was told that these demons—” she stopped speaking again when his wide eyes danced around the chamber once more.
“On second thought, I’m not sure if now is the best time for this conversation,” he said.
Sophia blinked, aware of the fact that no one stood close enough to overhear them. But when she noted Father’s scowl directed her way, she promptly whispered, “Meet me in the chapel during my morning vespers.” Then she curtsied.
Beon followed her gaze to Lord Gall and bowed in turn, saying, “As you wish.”
Beon’s posture told her he was disappointed by something. Sophia couldn’t imagine why he would be disgruntled by her words and frowned after him as he disappeared into the corridor.
The next morning, Sophia rubbed at her eyes, not having slept well at all. Images of that murderous creature in the woods had caused a shadow of fear to enter her dreams, twisting the stories that played through her mind into confusing nightmares. When she realized she was safe at home, the distressing feelings faded.
The idea of seeing Beon revived her, and she found herself taking extra time in front of the looking-glass as she prepared for their meeting. She felt silly and excited all at once, and this odd buoyancy baffled her. Even though it was completely unnecessary, Sophia took the hidden passageway to the chapel and smiled along the way, thinking of the happy memories it invoked. It was almost as though the stones of these passageways still echoed the carefree giggles she, Beon, and Marcel had emitted as they explored the dark passages. An echo that may have only resided in her mind, but she cherished the idea anyway.
Once she reached the chapel, she pushed against the panel, opening it partway to listen, making sure she and Beon would truly be alone. Moving to one of the pews when she heard no one, she waited...and waited and waited.
With a sigh, Sophia rose and began to wander the chamber. As the memories of coming here every day as a child filled her mind, she absently began singing to herself like she used to do. The old and forgotten rhymes came rushing back to her lips. Eventually, she rediscovered that magical spot in the room where the acoustics enveloped her like a warm, heavenly blanket. Sophia started spinning in place, letting her skirts billow out around her legs as she’d done when she was little—until she noticed that she wasn’t alone and stopped, gasping in surprise. “How long have you been standing there?” she asked Beon. He had the strangest look on his face, and she searched his expression trying to understand it.
“I…did not know you could sing,” he stammered.
“Of course I can sing and don’t you know it’s impolite to sneak up on someone like that? You might’ve frightened me to death.”
Beon stepped closer, and she had to lift her chin to keep her eyes on his. “Have you been frightened? Since the woods, I mean.”
“I’m all right with the sun up.”
“But at night?”
“I awaken with night terrors,” Sophia admitted. “But they fade once the sunlight chases away the darkness.”
“I’ve hardly slept since we returned, but mainly because I’m devising a plan to trap the demon,” he said, clasping her hands, his fingers warm to the touch. She also detected a warmth within his brown eyes she hadn’t noticed the night before. As his hands warmed her own, she shivered, only then realizing how chilled she’d become waiting in the dim chapel. Dragging in a calming breath before he noticed her trembling, a stench assaulted her nose.
Taking her hands from his, she covered her nose and couldn’t stop herself from saying, “You smell of manure.”
“Forgive me, my lady, I failed to mention last evening that I would not be able to reconnoiter with you until my chores were complete.”
“Father still has you mucking out that stalls?”
“I don’t mind, really. I love the horses…and they love me. Quite loyal, they are, and tremendously helpful to have such allies in the lists during our exercises. Your father has given me a great advantage in my training, although I doubt it was intentional.”
Sophia wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the loss of his warm touch.
“I’d offer you my robe, but…as you pointed out, it stinks...” Beon trailed off as if he’d had an idea. He next untied his robe and threw it over a nearby pew. Then came to Sophia and wrapped his arms around her from behind—just like he’d done on the horse the night before. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against him, instantly feeling better as the heat from his body enveloped hers.
“Will you please sing like that again, my lady? I don’t believe I’ve ever heard a more beautiful sound.” Feeling his breath dance over her hair, she blushed in his arms.
With her heart now pounding in her throat and her mouth going dry, she whispered, “I fear I’m shaking too much at the moment.”
Beon held her a little tighter. They stood like that in silence for a long beat. All the while, Sophia was afraid to move or speak, lest the magical moment be over. She suspected Beon felt the same when he remained just as silent and motionless.
“Do you really think you can capture it?” Sophia finally asked. And what would they do with it after they caught it?
“The demon? Well, yes. All devils have a weakness.”
“But what if it’s an angel? An angel of death.”
A gasp escaped her when he spun her around and gripped her shoulders, his earnest eyes boring into her. “My lady, how can you speak such blasphemy in a house of God? That thing was pure evil…delivered directly from the bowels of Hell, which is where I intend to return it. Now, tell me everything you know about it…you said it was alive and dead. What does that mean?”
Momentarily silent at his sudden intensity, she finally gathered her thoughts. “I don’t know. I’ve only heard whisperings of a cre
ature that survives off the living blood of men. It has no beating heart, is cold to the touch, but somehow the blood gives it life.”
“And strength as well, obviously. It knocked me down like I was a stalk of wheat.”
“Yes, well, supposedly it only attacks at night. I don’t think anyone knows where it goes during the day.”
“Tell me more about its weaknesses…the devil clearly shrank from your crucifix, further evidence that it is evil by the by, so we should arm ourselves with a few more of those. Why not one for each hand?”
“Especially if they’re silver, like mine.” She pulled the chain out away from her neck, letting the cross sit within her palm for him to see it. Beon’s fingertips brushed against her skin as he lifted it from her hand. “Rumors speak of an aversion to silver…and of holy water. Oh, and garlic,” she added.
After rubbing his thumb over the pendant, he released the necklace, and it dropped back to her chest. “Garlic? Really? Well, it is rather pungent. I have an aversion to garlic myself.”
“And light. I suppose because they are nocturnal they avoid light.”
“So we need silver crucifixes, some cloves of garlic, holy water, and a couple of strong torches. Anything else?”
“Well, the one priest I saw—the one who went off to free an afflicted village of the beast, had several sharp wooden stakes in his belt. I don’t want to think what he intended to use them for…but there you have it.”
“I would think he meant to impale the demon—”
The instant grotesque images filled her mind at his words she interrupted him. “I said I don’t want to think about it.”
“Right, yes, of course, my lady. Forgive me.”
“You really don’t need to refer to me in that way, we’re old friends.”
“It is a simple show of respect and admiration, my lady.”
“Admiration? I see... All right, Sir Beon, knight of Bamborough Castle, if you insist,” she said with half a smile.
Her smile fell away when he gave her no hint of a grin in return. In fact, he looked to be a mixture of annoyed and sad. “Have I said something wrong,” she asked.
“You seem to have forgotten that I am not yet a knight. With that in mind, you must know that I do not deserve that level of respect.”
Sophia wanted to argue that she did respect him a great deal, no matter what his title was. “No matter. A squire then?”
“Well, I shall start gathering our supplies in anticipation of your return to the Priory. Will I see you at the feast this evening?”
His answer was a poorly disguised attempt to change the subject. She grasped onto his sleeve. “You can’t still be a page, can you?”
“At the feast, my lady, will I see you there?” he asked, again blatantly hedging.
Realizing she might hurt his feelings if she continued pressing for an answer he was clearly unwilling to give, she said, “Of course you will. I mean, Father wouldn’t have it any other way. That is why he summoned me, I’m sure…to attract a suitor, now that I am of age.”
Sophia noticed Beon’s face turn pale at this, and she worried she’d said something wrong once again.
“It sounded to me like you wanted to stay on Holy Island,” he said.
“You wish for me to become a nun then?” she asked, bewildered. That hadn’t been the impression she’d gotten from him when she’d first spoken of her time with the nuns.
“No...I mean...well...” He sighed a bit sadly before finishing with, “I meant why would I be escorting you back after the celebration if Lord Gall didn’t mean for you to stay there a bit longer?”
“I don’t know why Father does half of what he does, honestly. But, I...” A flood of uncertainty came rushing back. When she’d first been sent away, she’d heard that only ‘unwanted’ girls were sent to nunneries, unless the stay was a temporary arrangement for their safety. And quite frequently, these girls were kept in the dark as to why they were there. Since Father was not at war, what if she was one of the unwanted girls and just didn’t yet know that she’d been discarded? Was she still being punished because Mother’s death was her fault? Was there something wrong with her that Father recognized, while she was too witless to see it for herself?
When Father had summoned her back for the May Day celebration, she’d hoped he was now going to welcome her back home. How was she to recognize the truth? Knowing her father would not react well if she dared ask such a thing, Sophia was left to wonder.
As a sense of hopelessness filled her, she said weakly, “I didn’t know he was sending me back so soon.”
She may have wanted to go back if Beon hadn’t been the one to bring her home again. With him here, nowhere else felt like home. Why were her thoughts such a tangle of conflicting emotions? Feeling the sting of tears, Sophia ducked her head and ran for the entrance to the secret passageway.
Beon couldn’t let her rush away like that, and went after her. Knowing these passageways as well as she did, it didn’t take him long to catch up with her. Taking her hand, he drew her around to face him. At the sight of tears rolling down her cheeks his stomach clenched. “I’m sure Lord Gall is just sending you back there for your safety.”
“How can you know that?”
“You’re his only daughter.”
“And a burden...”
“Ask him not to send you back this time.”
“Do you honestly think he’ll listen?”
Beon’s answer to that question would have been no, so he kept it to himself.
“My things and the girls who understand me best are still there...”
“You sound conflicted.”
“I am,” she admitted as she swept fingers over her cheeks, shoving away the moisture. Her focus dropped to the floor, and he wondered if there was more to this she wasn’t telling him.
Catching her chin against his finger, he guided her eyes back to his. “If your father has you here to find a suitor, it means he still plans to pay your dowry rather than take it from you, meaning you won’t be one of the ‘rejected’ girls. Let’s see what happens after the festivities, shall we?”
A shuddering breath escaped her, and she nodded.
The sadness and uncertainty would not release Sophia as she absently performed her duties for the feast and for the bonfires that would follow. As she gathered yellow flowers from the nearby meadows, along with just about everyone else in the castle and surrounding village, she tried to guess at Father’s plan for her, but he was impossible to read. Her father’s mysterious motives were not new to Sophia, but it was far more distressing where her own future was concerned. As expected, he paid full attention to Marcel, a lesser amount of interest went to Marcus, and she was all but invisible.
Typical of this celebration, the day was consumed with decorating every window, path, and door with bouquets, garlands, and crosses, all crafted from any and all yellow flowers available. Not only that, but the small hawthorn tree in the courtyard had been draped with strands of vibrant flowers and ribbons tied to branches, which fluttered in the breeze, as well as brightly painted shells that were hung from strings, so they made a faint tinkling sound as they danced against each other. As long as she could remember the tree had served as the May Bush, but rather than bring a smile to her face, it reminded her of how much things had changed. She’d missed many a May Day, which had been one of her favorite events here at Bamborough Castle, Mother’s too.
And when she remembered how lovely Mother had looked with so many sprigs of primrose and rowen flowers in her hair, Sophia’s mood sank a little more. As a child, and always on May Day, Sophia had wondered if her mother wasn’t simply a real fairy, but actually the queen of all fairies. How that fey queen had come to live at such a solemn castle and be her mother, Sophia had never been able to sort out, but she was certainly grateful she had. As time passed, Sophia had lost touch with the whimsical side of herself, and her heart ached over that loss as well.
As Sophia’s memories of the past
swam before her eyes until she might drown, a bouquet of fragrant primrose suddenly blocked her vision. Before she had a chance to turn, Beon whispered very close to her ear, “With bright yellow flowers strewn before every door, and a May Bush that puts those in other villages to shame, as they each vie for the most handsome in the land, how can anyone pout so fiercely?”
Somehow the sound of his voice had chased away the shadowy memories like a ray of sunlight breaking through storm clouds, and a smile captured her mouth so fast she couldn’t help but tease him back. “I’m not pouting,” she said, knowing it wasn’t true.
“Will a fine show of Morris dancing banish the frown, my lady?” he asked, proving he knew she was fibbing.
This drew her gaze to his attire, and she turned to face him. Noting the fact that Beon was already wearing the bells around his knees, she asked, “I’m surprised I did not hear you coming.”
Half of his mouth lifted in a smile, along with an eyebrow. “I’ve heard that if you pout too hard, then it can cause a temporary loss of hearing.”
Sophia laughed, taking the flowers from his hand and lifting them to her nose. After drawing in the fragrance, she blinked up at him. “You’re dancing?”
Beon nodded. “Along with the other lads, yes.”
“With sticks or white kerchiefs?” she asked, deciding she needed to see this. In their youth, he’d been too young as it was usually the men who performed the Morris dancing.
Before he could answer, however, Father’s angry voice cut into their conversation—and just that quickly, her mood plummeted. “Sophia! Stop neglecting your duties and make yourself ready! And see that Marcus is presentable as well.”
Marcus shuffled in her direction. “I don’t need her to look after me!” Marcus said.
Father’s fingers curled into fists when she did not respond, and she thought he might strike her if she didn’t do as he asked quickly. “Yes, Father!” she said, gathering Marcus by the hand and rushing toward the castle.
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