Solstice at Stonewylde

by Kit Berry

  Sylvie swallowed and the caressing of her arm stopped. She realised she’d hardly thought about Yul all day and feeling guilty, pulled herself from the comfortable cradle of Magus’ arms. Her mass of hair tumbled everywhere as she sat upright, face flushed.

  ‘We always find things to talk about and often we don’t need to talk at all – it’s just good being together.’

  He held up her wrist and examined the bruises. His dark eyes met hers in a mocking gaze.

  ‘I see. And yet despite such deep spiritual compatibility this strong, silent one manages to inflict these terrible injuries on you. He imprisons you in a cage, cracks you over the head, takes the skin off one side of your body, and almost breaks your ribs as you lie crushed beneath him. Not to mention tying you up and gagging you. Do you enjoy being kept in bondage and treated roughly?’

  ‘No, of course not! And it’s never happened before – it was only because of the moongaziness and he never meant to hurt me. I’m sure he didn’t.’

  ‘I understand. Well, I just hope he has the intellect and intelligence to satisfy you in the future, for there’s nothing worse than being saddled with some ignoramus who bores you witless. You’ll find the Neanderthal brutishness will begin to pall after a while.’

  She stood up, stung by his tone, and felt the room sway.

  ‘I think I’ll go now,’ she said tightly.

  ‘Alright, Sylvie,’ he said smoothly. ‘You do that, if you’ve had enough of my company. But you should visit my bathroom first and do something about your hair and your face. Your mother might get the wrong idea if she sees you looking like that.’

  Angrily she went through to the black marble bathroom and gasped when she saw herself reflected many times over in the gilt mirrors all around her. Her cheeks were very flushed, her eyes unnaturally bright and her hair was messed up all around her head. She looked exactly as if she’d been doing something she shouldn’t.

  When she returned several minutes later, smoothed and cooled down with cold water, he’d poured them both another drink.

  ‘Have this before you go,’ he said, smiling. ‘I’m sorry, Sylvie, I didn’t mean to upset you. I was only teasing and you shouldn’t rise to the bait, but I really don’t think he’s worthy of you. A simple Village lout and a princess like you – it’s all wrong. You deserve the very best.’

  ‘Please don’t be nasty about him,’ she said, accepting the glass from him and sitting down again. ‘I enjoy coming here while you’re getting better, but you know I like him and I don’t want to hear you say horrible things about him.’

  He shrugged.

  ‘I don’t like the horrible things he’s done to you. Drink your mead.’

  She swallowed obediently.

  ‘Anyway, how can you call him a simple Village lout? I thought he was your son.’

  ‘He is, but he’s still a lout. Relax, Sylvie, and stop being cross with me. Come here and snuggle up again – it makes me feel better having you close.’

  She put her empty glass on the side table, her head spinning as she’d had far too much to drink. The mead was powerful and she wasn’t used to drinking alcohol. She rested her head against Magus and he held her lightly; she felt so warm and drowsy in the heat from the fire.

  ‘Yul’s very like you, you know,’ she murmured, her eyelids heavy.

  ‘I’m sure he is,’ said Magus softly. ‘But why make do with a copy when you can have the original?’

  Sylvie awoke late the next morning on Magus’ sofa, a silk cushion under her head and the pashmina draped over her. Her head throbbed and her eyes wouldn’t focus at first. She sat up feeling confused and then, as the reality of the situation hit her, horribly embarrassed. The clock said it was almost mid-day and there was no sign of Magus. The fire had burnt out but had not yet been re-laid. Her hair hung in her face, and when she looked in the mirror over the mantelpiece, she saw her eyes were smudged dark with mascara. She felt a complete mess.

  Sylvie crept back to the Tudor wing hoping she wouldn’t meet anyone on the way. She still wore the evening dress and jewels, and it was obvious she’d spent the night with Magus. She was lucky for the only person she saw was Martin, who composed his face into a respectful smile as he passed her in the corridor.

  ‘Good afternoon, miss. I hope you slept well.’

  ‘Er … yes, thank you, Martin.’

  ‘Are the master’s rooms available to be cleaned?’

  ‘Yes, of course. I’m sorry if I was in the way.’

  Miranda was waiting in their rooms in fine fettle, accusations ready to hurl.

  ‘I promise it’s not what you’re thinking, Mum! We ate dinner and drank some mead, and we were sitting on the sofa by the fire chatting and then the next thing I knew it was morning. I’m so embarrassed. I must’ve dropped off to sleep and I’ve only just woken up. I don’t know where Magus is. Don’t give me a hard time, please.’

  Miranda could see Sylvie was telling the truth, but glared at her daughter as she unwrapped the soft pashmina.

  ‘What on earth are those? Are they real?’

  She touched the milky opals and brilliant diamonds around Sylvie’s throat, her face twisted as if she’d swallowed something sour.

  ‘They were a present and I’m sure they’re real. Can you imagine Magus buying fakes?’

  Miranda turned away, her throat tight.

  ‘Go and get changed and wash that make-up off your face,’ she spat. ‘You look like a slut, Sylvie, coming back in such a mess, dressed like that and dripping with jewels. What on earth would people think if they saw you like this? I hope nobody did see you?’

  ‘Only Martin.’

  ‘Well that’s a relief. Now hurry up and we’ll go down to lunch.’

  ‘Oh no, Mum, I really couldn’t face lunch. My head hurts and I need to lie down – the room’s spinning.’

  So Miranda went alone to lunch, and then down to the Village for the afternoon to join the women in the Nursery. Sylvie was delighted that she’d started going out again; it was just what her mother needed and would distract her from carping on about Magus all the time. Sylvie thought she might go for a walk herself but she still felt sleepy so she had a rest on her bed and before she knew it, Harold was knocking on the door. He carried a couple of boxes and seemed a little awkward with her, clearly not wanting to engage in conversation. There was also another note from Magus, inviting her to join him as soon as possible and stay for dinner. It was getting dark, almost four o’clock, and Sylvie realised she’d slept for most of the day. She felt satiated with sleep, lazy and languorous.

  Dressed in another set of new clothes, Sylvie went back to Magus’ rooms. He was on the phone but smiled and waved her to the sofa. She kicked off her boots and lay down, picking up a book to read. She realised she should’ve brought some school work with her as she’d done nothing today, but she really couldn’t be bothered to go back and get it. She relaxed, listening to Magus’ voice in the background rattling away in a language she didn’t recognise.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said eventually, coming over to her and kissing her briefly on the lips. She recoiled slightly. He usually kissed her cheek. She looked up at him wide-eyed and he smiled down at her.

  ‘You look very well rested. Good night’s sleep on my sofa?’

  She flushed at this.

  ‘I’m sorry – I don’t even remember falling asleep.’

  ‘I don’t mind at all, and I thought it best to let you sleep rather than wake you up and send you back to your cold bed. You looked so cosy curled up here by the fire and it was lovely to see you while I ate breakfast. I hope Miranda didn’t mind.’

  ‘Well, yes, she did but we sorted it out.’

  ‘Good – and how is she? Will she speak to me yet?’

  Sylvie realised that she didn’t really want Miranda speaking to him at the moment. She was enjoying coming here every day and Miranda would just complicate things.

  ‘No, she never wants to speak to you again.’

&
nbsp; He laughed.

  ‘Well that’s going to be difficult, seeing as how we live under the same roof. She’ll come round, I’m sure, but I don’t want her giving you a hard time. You’ve had a bad experience recently with all the teachers hounding you so if there’re any problems with your mother, let me deal with her. I expect she’s a little jealous of you at the moment.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose she is. She says I’m shallow.’

  He sat down next to her and put his arm round her, squeezing her affectionately.

  ‘I’ve never met a girl less shallow than you, Sylvie, so don’t listen to a word she says. Oh, by the way, we had a big delivery today. Look over there – all those parcels are for you.’

  ‘Wow!’

  She was overwhelmed by the number of things he’d bought her. It hadn’t seemed so much when they were sitting at the computer, but there were boxes and boxes with the clothes inside all beautifully wrapped in tissue paper.

  ‘I don’t think it’ll all fit into my wardrobe,’ she said, as they stood looking at the piles of unpacked clothes and shoes.

  ‘I thought you might say that,’ he smiled, passing her a glass of mead. ‘So I’ve organised a room for you just down from here, beyond my bedroom. You can keep all your new things in there and it could be a bolt-hole for you too, if Miranda’s on your back. Pregnant women can be quite irrational at times and besides, you’re practically grown up now and need to be more independent of her.’

  ‘Thank you, Magus,’ she said. ‘You’re so kind to me.’

  ‘Not at all. You’ve given me so much pleasure, Sylvie, over the past few days. Being rich for the sake of it is no fun, but being able to treat you to whatever you want gives me such a buzz.’

  He poured her some more mead and sat working again at his desk for a while. Sylvie lay on the sofa by the fire, sipping her drink and reading. They ate a leisurely dinner and watched a film, and she felt herself becoming drowsy after a while. She knew she should get up and go back to her room, but it was so comfortable here. She curled up against Magus and he stroked her hair and played with the long silky strands. She felt her eyes closing, and he shifted so that she lay more heavily against him. His scent was heavenly and his hands very gentle as they soothed her to sleep. She drifted away.

  When she woke the following afternoon, Magus had just come back from a ride. His cheeks and eyes glowed and he looked bright with well-being. Sylvie had been dreaming about Mother Heggy and the crow and now, looking at Magus bursting with health and vitality, she realised what a load of rubbish the idea of a banishing spell was. She couldn’t believe she’d been ridiculous enough to take it all so seriously, let alone feel guilty about it. She smiled lazily up at him and stretched, her body arching like a cat’s on the sofa. He gazed down, his eyes slowly travelling the length of her.

  ‘Have you been asleep all this time?’ he laughed. ‘You look so content and there’s no need to get up if you don’t want to. Do you want any lunch?’

  ‘No thanks, I’m not really hungry, just a bit woozy.’

  ‘Oh dear – then you won’t want this?’

  He’d brought her over a glass of mead, glowing gold in the weak sunlight that streamed through the windows. Smiling, she took it from him and laid her head back languidly on the pile of silk cushions, sipping its fiery sweetness. She was getting quite a taste for it.

  ‘Let me run you a bath, Sylvie,’ he said, refilling her glass a little later. ‘You lie there and I’ll call you when it’s ready.’

  She sipped and sighed, wriggling her toes with pleasure, picturing the luxurious black marble bathroom. It’d be fun to try out that enormous circular spa-bath. She idly wondered what Miranda was doing today – probably down in the Village again talking babies. An image of Yul flitted through her mind and she felt a twinge of guilt as she’d hardly thought of him at all in the last couple of days. Her head was heavy from all the sleep and spoiling and she didn’t want to think of him now; it was too much effort. She closed her eyes and basked in the warmth of the December afternoon sun and the heat of the log fire.

  Sylvie must’ve drifted off for she was awoken by a knock on the door. Magus was still in the bathroom, so she called for the visitor to come in. Hazel entered, her eyes sweeping the room and missing nothing. Sylvie tried to sit up but she was a little dizzy from the mead, so remained spread out on the sofa in disarray. She smiled up at Hazel, hoping she’d be a little friendlier now. The doctor stared down at her stonily.

  ‘Where’s Magus?’ she asked. She stared at Sylvie lying dreamily in her expensive new clothes, cheeks flushed and silver hair spilling everywhere, an empty glass on the floor beside her.

  ‘In the bathroom I think,’ said Sylvie, waving vaguely in the direction of the other rooms.

  ‘Are you drunk?’

  ‘No! Of course I’m not.’

  ‘Sylvie! Your bath– oh, Hazel.’

  Magus strode into the room and frowned at the young doctor.

  ‘To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit? I thought I’d always been very clear that anyone who wishes to see me phones first, or checks with Martin that it’s convenient. Never turn up here unannounced.’

  Hazel gazed up at him, her eyes begging for kindness.

  ‘I’m sorry, I just wanted to make sure that Sylvie was alright.’

  ‘Well of course she’s alright. Why wouldn’t she be?’

  ‘It’s just that … you were concerned about her health before and you wanted me to check her daily, but she hasn’t turned up for her weigh-in for several days now.’

  ‘Oh that!’ Magus shook his head. ‘No, I don’t need you monitoring her any more. She’s under my personal care now.’

  ‘She looks a little thinner,’ said Hazel, glancing down at where Sylvie lay stretched out.

  ‘She’s fine. I’m not worried about her weight any more and if she wants to be slim, that’s fine by me. Isn’t that right, Sylvie?’

  She smiled up at him and nodded.

  ‘And are you fully recovered, Magus? You called me in a week ago and asked for anti-depressants, but you’re looking well now.’

  He brushed Sylvie’s hair with his fingertips and Hazel saw the way the girl gazed up at him, her soft grey eyes slightly unfocused. She was definitely thinner and Hazel understood only too well what was going on.

  ‘As you say, I’m well now and fully recovered, thanks to Sylvie’s attentions. So if that’s all, Hazel?’

  The doctor turned on her heel, smarting with humiliation. She felt like an intruder on an intimate scene, although it was clear that Sylvie wasn’t being coerced into anything – not yet anyway. Magus was so clever. And the worst thing of all, thought Hazel bitterly, was that she’d have given anything to be in Sylvie’s place.

  ‘Sylvie, you’re going to have to leave tomorrow.’

  ‘No! Why? I don’t want to.’

  It was two days since Hazel’s visit and Sylvie still hadn’t left Magus’ rooms, the hours passing in a pleasant haze. Sylvie gazed at him now with drowsy eyes, reluctant to make any effort to move at all.

  ‘It’s the Dark Moon tomorrow and you need to go to the Great Barn with the other women.’

  ‘Oh no, I’d forgotten about that,’ she groaned. ‘What a pain. Do I have to go? I really can’t be bothered – I’d rather stay here.’

  ‘You’d better go or tongues will start wagging if you don’t. You can come straight back to me in the evenings though, so it won’t be too bad.’

  She twisted on the sofa and looked up into his dark eyes, deep and heavy as they rested on her. He lifted her languid hand and examined her wrist.

  ‘His marks are beginning to fade. I don’t ever want to see anyone else’s marks on you – we both know you belong here with me.’

  Sylvie saw the muscle in his cheek twitching and remembered him looking like this before, sitting on her bed in the Tudor wing and stroking her hair as he came to say goodnight to her. She’d been terrified then, and now she wondered why. He was
so easy to control if she kept him happy; she knew exactly what she was doing.

  ‘Let me sleep,’ she mumbled. ‘I’m tired.’

  ‘You can’t be tired – you’ve done nothing but lie around all week. Wake up, Sylvie! I need to talk to you.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I don’t want you mixing with the Villagers tomorrow in the Great Barn. You’re to sit with the Hallfolk where you belong. If you’re going to be my princess, you must behave accordingly.’

  ‘But the Hallfolk girls hate me.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, of course they don’t. They may be a little jealous, but just ignore it.’

  ‘No, it’s really much worse than that. They’ve been ganging up on me all summer and autumn and they say the most awful things to me. Holly’s the worst – she really loathes me.’

  ‘Does she? Would you like me to send her away?’

  She looked up at him startled, her head against his thigh as she lay full-length on the sofa, her hair cascading over his lap. He gazed down at her impassively, one hand lightly fingering her throat and the sharp line of her jawbone.

  ‘What – banish her?’

  ‘Not banish exactly. I could send her away from Stonewylde to live with her parents in the Outside World. Holly’s father is my second cousin.’

  ‘Would you really send her away just to please me?’

  ‘Sylvie, my angel, when are you going to realise? I’d do anything to please you. You only have to say what you want and it’s yours.’

  She smiled, feeling a thrill of power, but shook her head.

  ‘No, don’t send her away. She’s been awful to me but I can deal with her.’

  ‘I’ll speak to her, then – I’ll speak to all of them. But you’re not to sit with the Villagers tomorrow, do you understand?’

  His fingers played on her throat, kneading the tender skin gently.

  ‘But Magus, I usually—’

  ‘No! It stops now. I’ll give you the earth, Sylvie, but only if you obey me. That’s the deal – you do as I tell you.’ He looked down into her eyes. His face was lit by the flickering firelight, hollowing his cheeks and making his dark eyes glow.