Her jaw clenched as though she would kill him now if she could. “You are despicable.”
“Perhaps in your view. But my conscience, at least, is clear. I should entreat you to examine yours.”
Benedict heaved a sigh of relief when he could enter his private chambers, where Orlando was waiting for him. I am glad that is over and done with. “I suppose that relief is not an appropriate response to this revelation? Relief that I don’t need to marry her, I mean,” Benedict said as he sat in his chair before the fire.
“You will have to get used to the intrigue, Ben,” Orlando said. “You’ve escaped enough of it thus far, but you cannot elude it forever.”
“I hate politics. They bore me, they distress me, and they make my life miserable. I need to escape for a few days—clear my head.” He felt exhausted, and his life, under the burden of kingship, stretched before him like an upward mountain path.
“You’re always bored.” A hint of frustration laced Orlando’s words. “Why can’t you find a nice girl—a countess, preferably—settle down, and start a family?”
Benedict looked away, his conscience pricked. For generations the law of the land had stated that the elder sons of the reigning monarch were required to wed before the younger, the legacy of a paranoid king who’d been attempting to dodge betrothing his younger son into a rival family. Orlando and Silvana were childhood sweethearts, but they were unable to marry until Benedict found a bride. As of yet, it was the only reason that he had done his best to find a suitable wife, and why he had even been willing to put up with Lady Cécile’s icy disdain.
I wasn’t that Benedict disliked the idea of marriage, exactly. But it had always seemed to him a pleasant but far-off dream for when his days of thrill seeking and adventure were over. And as every betrothal he’d ever entered into had ended due to circumstances beyond his control, he’d grown used to bachelorhood. But now, after Cécile, his failed romances seemed more like the result of a curse than mere misfortune. At least his other fiancées hadn’t tried to kill him. At best, he wanted to wait. Forty seemed a good age for marriage. He told his brother that once, and Orlando had nearly given him a black eye.
“I’m not waiting another twenty years to marry Silvie,” he had said, furious. “So don’t you dare!” Benedict had thought his brother’s reaction was slightly exaggerated; he’d be forty in only thirteen years, not twenty.
This afternoon, though, Orlando seemed more resigned than angry. He gave a deep sigh.
“Never mind. Silvana’s already planning to play matchmaker. She has a widowed duchess from the south picked out for you at the moment.”
“I’m glad to know Silvana has my future planned,” Benedict said, fearing he was sincere in his sentiments. Putting his future in Silvana’s hands might not be a bad thing. She was a sensible one. “However,” he went on, “for the time being, I have other plans. I heard rumors of a werewolf prowling around the woods of Griffin’s Peak—”
“Heaven help us all! You’re so anxious for adventure you’re giving credence to the superstitions of fishwives, now. I suppose next you’ll be gallivanting off in search of the beautiful maiden held captive in a tower.”
“A maiden in a tower?” Benedict asked, interested. He leaned forward. “I haven’t heard that one yet. It sounds promising.”
“That one’s been around for years, Ben. Some peasants from Ivly swear that an old witch stole a beautiful young girl with golden hair and locked her in a tower.” He laughed and shook his head.
But Benedict was serious. He leaned back in his chair. “I might look into that one.”
“Yes. Amusing.”
“No, in truth.” Benedict sprang up from his chair and grabbed his cloak. “Ivly, you said? I think I’ll go. Much more interesting than a German werewolf. And much closer.”
“Ben, you cannot be serious! It’s absurd!” He rolled his eyes. “Never mind. I told you that about the ‘vampire’ of Venice and you went there anyway.”
“What you fail to realize, Orlando, is that no matter how seemingly ridiculous a tale is, there is almost always a grain of truth in it. There was no vampire, but there was a sadistic—bloodthirsty, if you will—murderer on the loose. And if I hadn’t brought the man to justice, he might be out there still.” He shrugged into his cloak. “Now, do you care to come?” He said it lightly, but he felt a pounding in his chest, the same urge that always prodded him when the right quest had fallen into his lap. It would take him only moments to prepare, and Ivly was but a day’s ride from the palace.
“No thank you. But Ben—” Orlando’s voice stopped his brother at the door. “If there really is a maiden, do us all a favor and marry the girl!”
Ben laughed. “You know how tales get distorted. I’m willing to bet the maiden locked in that tower is bald, losing her teeth, and all of sixty-five. With a wart on her nose for good measure!”
Orlando’s reluctant laugher followed him down the hall.
III.
The tower was quiet but for the faint crunching of the pestle and mortar in Nella’s hands as she ground oats. The day was cold for early fall, and she had shut all of the windows to keep out drafts. Persephone was playing on the floor by her feet, attacking a ball of yarn. One of the parakeets chirped in their cage and Persephone, instantly distracted, stood on her hind legs to get a better look. “Don’t touch the birds, Persi,” Nella said absent-mindedly as she crushed the oats with one hand and examined her recipe in the other. She knew the birds, hanging from a hook in the ceiling, were far out of reach from her cat’s curiosity.
She glanced up momentarily, only to see a man’s form on the balcony reflected in the mirror across from her. She shrieked and, leaping from her seat, grabbed the closest heavy object she found—a large vase.
““Who are you? What do you want? Get out of here!” She raised the vase, as if to throw it.
The man stepped back from the doorway. “Wait, wait just a second. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to rescue you!”
“I don’t need to be rescued,” Nella looked at him as if he were deranged, her voice taking upon itself the tone of someone trying to chase away a stray dog: part forceful, part terrified. “Go away!”
The man cleared his throat. “I’m afraid there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding. I was told that a beautiful maiden was held captive in this tower against her will. Though I won’t deny that you are a beautiful maiden—”
Nella’s frown deepened.
“—apparently I was misinformed about the captivity. Anyway,” his eyes flickered to the vase, “I see you are quite able to take care of yourself, so it has been nice meeting you and I will be on my way.” He backed out of the room.
“Wait!” Nella lowered the vase, though she still kept it firmly in her hands. “What do you mean, that you were told I was kept here against my will?”
The man stopped. “There’s a great legend about someone whom I can only assume is you. Something about a witch stealing you away at birth and locking you up or some such thing.”
“By all the saints!” She set the vase down on the table with a clang. She frowned, suddenly realizing a fuller implication of his words. “You mean… they know I’m here?” The villagers knew that Nonna had fled with her towards the woods, but surely they had forgotten all about her by now. It had been over a dozen years since they’d seen either of them.
“Well, I don’t think they know where you are exactly. It took me nearly a week to find you in this forest, and then yesterday I came by and couldn’t think of a way to get up here—”
“You were here yesterday?” Nella’s face turned white.
“Well, yes. And I saw the balcony and came back with a rope and grappling hook and climbed in.”
Nella felt nauseous. Was it true she hadn’t been as hidden and safe as she had first thought?
“I’m sorry; have I upset you?”
“Upset me? Upset me?” Her voice was on the fringes of hysteria. She grabbed hold of the corne
r of the table to steady herself. Her uninvited guest strode forward as if to help her, but she held up a hand. “I’m fine,” she said. “I’m fine.” She took a deep breath and attempted to calm her breathing. You’re fine. Does he look like he means to hurt you? No. Keep your head. If he does mean you harm, how can outwit him if you cannot focus? She swallowed, ready to speak, when she suddenly saw the open door. “Persephone?”
The man looked around. “Who?”
“My cat. She was right here—” her eyes widened. “You didn’t leave the door open, did you?”
“I did. I did not think…” he turned.
“Oh, no!” Nella pulled up the edges of her gamurra and ran to the balcony. “Oh, now look what you’ve done!” She was ready to cry with vexation. Persephone, free from the confines of the tower, had wandered out onto the balcony rail and begun to climb the ivy on the side of the tower several feet above. Her soft meowing signified that she had gotten stuck. “She’s going to fall and break her neck!”
The man sighed. “Here, I’ll get her.” He put his foot on the rail of the balcony and heaved himself up. Nella sucked in a breath at his precarious position, but he seemed completely at ease.
“Come on, kitty.” He slipped his foot onto a stone in the tower and began to climb.
Nella bit her lip, her worry over Persi temporarily usurping her terror at being found. Think of the smaller things, she reminded herself. The things you can control and resolve.
Persephone, meowing, leapt onto his shoulder. Nella could see the cat’s claws dig into the stranger’s shirt and she winced.
The man, meanwhile, had climbed down. Persephone pranced around his shoulders and then jumped onto the floor of the balcony.
“Oh, Persi!” Nella scolded. “Don’t you do that again.” She scooped up the animal and held it firmly in her arms in front of her chest like a shield before turning to the stranger. “Thank you, sir.”
The man shrugged. “I don’t see the need to thank me when it was my fault she got out in the first place.”
Nella had thought the same thing herself. “I was just being polite,” she said awkwardly. It had been so long since she had spoken to anyone besides Cornelius that she didn’t really know what to say. “I’m Nella.” She stuttered in nervousness, suddenly realizing, now that she was no longer operating in a fog of terror, that the man was attractive, with a strong jaw and thick, curly dark hair. She hadn’t seen any young men in years, not since she was little more than a child. Though, as she took a closer look at him, this man wasn’t quite as young as she had first thought. Small wrinkles were beginning to form around his eyes and upon his forehead, and there was something in his manner that spoke of experience. But that seemed to somehow add to his appeal, rather than detract from it.
The man paused a moment before seeming to realize that he should introduce himself as well. “Ben. My name is Ben.” He swallowed. “You have an interesting home. It seems very comfortable.”
“Yes, it is. And very private—or so I thought.”
“I apologize again for my intrusion. I had no thoughts to cause you grief. I only thought someone was in trouble here, and I wished to help.
“How did you find me?”
“The Ivly rumors placed you somewhere in this forest. It’s a large one, though. I was ready to give up until I heard your singing.”
“My singing?” she asked, horrified and feeling as though her privacy had, if possible, been even more violated.
“It was quite beautiful, actually. But sound carries. It led me here.”
“Then I did this,” she whispered. “It was my own stupidity that led you here!” She walked away, feeling her heart rate speed up and her breath catch. I am going to be sick.
“It wasn’t stupidity,” he quickly assured her as he followed her back into the tower. “I don’t know why you are so determined to stay hidden, but I shall not tell anyone of your presence if you do not wish it.”
“No, I do not wish it!” she exclaimed. “I like being alone. I don’t want anyone nearby.”
“I see. You word your opinion very strongly.”
She turned to him and pursed her lips. Her queasiness was abating, but she still felt uneasy. “Perhaps you do not mean any harm. If I have been impolite, I apologize.”
He smiled. “It is no matter.”
“I simply find the company of other people tiresome. They understand very little,” she said, feeling an unaccountable need to explain herself.
“About what?” he asked in interest.
“About everything! But especially me.”
“Well, then, if I may be so bold to say so, no one will ever understand you if they never meet you.”
“But they will never misunderstand me, either.”
“This is odd logic.”
“But it is not untrue,” she shot back.
“No,” he said slowly. “I would not say it was untrue. I would say it is—” he stopped.
“You would say it is what? Selfish? Foolish?”
“Sad,” he said.
Nella set her jaw and looked away, affronted.
“I am sorry if I offended you.”
“Don’t be,” Nella said. “You owe me nothing.”
“I am a guest in your home,” Ben said in surprise. “I owe you the respect and deference I would show to anyone into whose home I had been invited. How much more should I show to you, whose home I have invaded?”
Nella looked at him and narrowed her eyes. “You are too clever. Do all the women you know believe your smooth tongue?”
“I do not lie, m’lady. But I shall not trouble you anymore. I shall take my leave, and not trespass upon your kindness.”
“Wait!” Nella surprised herself with her sudden entreaty. “I mean, you must go, of course.” She wanted him to go. Of course she did. “I just want to say that if I had been in trouble, I would have been grateful for your assistance. That is all.” The words sounded clumsy and insipid even to her ears, but he seemed not to mind.
“My pride is glad to hear it. Farewell, m’lady!”
“Orion!” Nella scolded, opening one of the birdcages. “Stop teasing Calypso.” She tapped the delinquent bird on the head and then let Cassiopeia hop onto her finger. The other birdcage, housing Leo, Ursa, and Aquila, chirped happily. Nella rubbed Cassiopeia under her neck. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you, Cassie?”
Persephone meowed on her hind legs, swatting at Nella’s skirts. “Oh, no, Persi,” she said, placing Cassiopeia back in her cage. “The birdies are not for you.”
Persi jumped up into Nella’s arms, and the two of them made their way upstairs to Nella’s bedroom. The room was more than comfortable, as Nonna had enjoyed being extravagant in buying Nella gifts, some of them from distant lands like Arabia or India.
Nella, with Persi still in her arms, fell backwards onto the pillows of her bed. It had been a trying day. She had burnt a batch of rosewater after becoming distracted from the stove when Persi had knocked over a vase. Then, one of her experiments had gone wrong and the entire laboratory level of the tower smelt horrible. She closed her eyes and tried to take a nap. She’d never had such difficulty focusing before. It was that man. He had come and filled her head with reminders of an outside world. It had been so easy to pretend that nothing beyond her tower existed; even Cornelius was such a constant in her life that he was no longer truly connected to the idea of a changing, tumultuous world outside. But that man—she rolled over and buried her head in her pillows, wishing she could feel content as she usually did.
She heard pounding on the lower balcony door.
Nella sat up, eyes wide. The sound stopped, and she hoped she had imagined it. The pounding commenced again and she hurried down the stairs, where she was greeted by a face pressed against the glass of the door on the balcony.
She opened the door forcefully. “You,” she said, almost relieved that it was the same person from yesterday, and not a new interloper. “What are you doing here?�
� She looked over his shoulder. “Did you climb up the tower again?”
Ben held out his arms, as if in entreaty. “I was going to say goodbye. I’m leaving the forest today. It was nice meeting you, and I’m glad you are not in distress. But most of all I wanted to tell you that some of the townspeople asked of my success when I went back to the inn last night. I was sure to tell them that I found nothing.”
Nella looked at him unsurely.
The man’s nose twitched. “Is something burning?” he asked in concern. “Are you all right?”
“I had a bit of an accident in the kitchen this morning,” she snapped, a bit abashed at her behavior. Her grandmother would have been ashamed of her lack of hospitality. “I suppose you have a long journey ahead of you. Would like something to eat before you go?” she asked reluctantly. After all, besides Cornelius, this could be the only other person she might ever see for the rest of her life. Normally, that thought would not have bothered her. Today, it did.
He looked at her skeptically.
“I burned my rosewater, not the food. I have some fresh bread and pork if you’d like some.”
“I will accept your kind offer, then.” He smiled. “I am sorry for all of the inconvenience I’ve caused.”
“It was not your fault that the villagers gossip, although I do wonder at your giving credence to their musings.”
“Flames of speculation can only come if there is a spark of truth somewhere. It must be said that I did find you in a tower.”
“It was once a hermitage, abandoned during my grandmother’s girlhood. I believe her uncle had been a monk here. That’s how she knew of it. But there was no witch—just my grandmother. And I came with her willingly.” Though Nella did wonder at the specificity of the tower, as the villagers had no way of knowing about it. Perhaps Cornelius had been indiscreet, or more likely, one of his children had thoughtlessly made allusion to it. Perhaps one of her grandmother’s childhood friends had known about it, and made suppositions. Nella did not know for sure, and she doubted she ever would.
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