She swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up, one hand still clinging to his fur. “Look how high the ceilings are. Oh! Magick, look.”
He heard the wonder in her voice as she stared at the painting on the ceiling. It had been done hundreds of years ago. He had stopped seeing it long ago; now, looking at it through her eyes, it was like seeing it for the first time. Fluffy white clouds were scattered against a pale blue sky. Turtle doves nested within the branches of a tree. A fawn slept in a thicket. A handful of sheep grazed in green pastures. It was a lovely mural, meant to lull one into peaceful slumber.
She ruffled his fur, and then she frowned. Leaning forward, she cradled his head in her hands. “Yer eyes,” she murmured. “They were blue before, and now they are the golden brown of autumn. How is that possible?”
The wolf’s tail thumped on the floor.
“Tis very strange,” she said, and then laughed softly. “But no more strange than the way my sight returns when ye are here.”
Slipping out of bed, she crossed the room, opened the door, and peered up and down the corridor. “Where do ye supposeheis?” she asked. “Do ye think he’s asleep?”
The wolf gave a low bark.
“Come,” she said, and with a firm grip on his fur, she left her chamber. The wolf padded quietly beside her.
She paused when she reached the bedchamber where Darkfest slept. Pressing her ear to the door, she listened for a moment, then looked down at the wolf. “I dinna hear anything.” She giggled behind her hand. “I thought he would snore loudly, like Papa.”
The wolf looked up at her, tail wagging.
They explored the main floor of the castle. She thought it odd that candles burned in every room even after the lord of the castle had retired for the night. He must be rich indeed, she thought, to incur such waste.
She ran her hands over the rich green velvet that covered the throne-like chairs in the Great Hall. An enormous carpet, woven in muted shades of green and blue, was spread before the chairs; another was spread before the hearth. She ran her fingertips over the exquisite tapestries that covered the cold stone walls; paused in front of a painting that hung from a gold cord. “They are a handsome couple, are they not?” she mused, and smiled when the wolf thumped his tail on the floor.
She touched everything she saw. Several long tables and benches lined two walls. All were covered with a fine layer of dust. She trailed her finger over one of the tables, leaving a clean streak behind.
“‘Tis a great deal of work to be done,” she remarked.
She paused at the great stone hearth and stared up at the sword that hung above the mantel. It was a large, heavy weapon. The hilt was set with sapphires and emeralds that winked a bright blue and green in the candlelight.
“Is thathissword, do ye think?” she mused. “Looks very sharp.”
Leaving the Hall, they went into the solar. There were a myriad of flowers and other plants growing there and she touched them all, stopping to smell the flowers, marveling at the silky feel of one of the blossoms, amazed that there were flowers at all when winter winds blew.
“Do ye think he knows the names of all these flowers?” she wondered aloud. She stooped to smell a delicate bloom.
The next room was filled with books, more books than she had ever dreamed existed in all the world. Shelves of books, of scrolls covered with strange lines and symbols. Surely it would take several lifetimes to read so many books.
She picked one up and turned the pages. The words meant nothing, but there were pictures on some of the pages - pictures of animals and plants and people. A story book, perhaps.
They left the library and went into the kitchen and she studied the pots and pans, the knives, the placement of the dishes and cups in the cupboard, so she could better remember them tomorrow. She lifted the lid on the breadbox, cut a thick slice from a loaf of crusty brown bread, and covered it with butter and honey.
“Hmm,” she said. She looked down at the wolf as she licked a drop of honey from her lips. “Would ye care for a taste?”
The wolf wagged its tail, so she broke off a corner of the bread and offered it to him. He took it gently from her hand, then licked the crumbs from her fingertips. The rough velvet of his tongue sent a shiver down her spine.
It was near dawn by the time she returned to her own chamber. Yawning, she climbed up on the big bed, then patted the mattress beside her.
With a lowwoof, the wolf leapt up beside her. “Oh, Magick, I wish ye could stay with me always,” she said wistfully. She slidunder the covers, and the wolf stretched out beside her. “Are ye really here?” she asked, her voice low and dreamy and sleep-edged, “or am I just dreaming?”
Perhaps I am the one dreaming, the wolf thought as her breasts pressed against his back. Her arms wrapped around him and she rested her chin on the top of his head.If so, I hope I never awake.
He lay there, her warm body pressed against his own, feeling her fingers stroke his head. Eyes closed with pleasure, he remained at her side until sleep claimed her. And then, unable to resist, he took on his own shape, his body humming with desire as he felt her soft curves pressed against his back.
He stayed there, unmoving, until the torment grew unbearable. And then, muttering an oath, he left her bed without a backward glance.
~ * ~
He woke to the tantalizing aroma of sausage and fresh-baked biscuits. A word brought the fireplace to life, the flames quickly chasing the chill from the air.
