“She approached you too, Mirela,” she whispered into the darkness. “She came to your chamber, accepted your gift…”
Her throat tightened.
“She wanted to talk to you. You sent her away.”
“She shouldn’t have been here,” Mirela murmured back to herself. “No one is allowed up here but me.” She swallowed hard, turning onto her side. “She was curious, that’s all. That’s the only reason she came.” She sighed squeezing her eyes. “She liked the picture. That’s why she was polite…”
But her voice shook.
Deep down, she knew it wasn’t just curiosity in Claire’s eyes but something dangerously kind. Mirela sat up sharply, frustration burning in her chest.
She didn’t want Claire to leave. She wanted to hear her voice again, see her smile, even stand close enough to feel her breath. To see those emerald eyes not from above, but inches away.
This was her chance to finally have a friend…
Mirela covered her face, a smile sneakingonto her lips.
A friend. Just maybe, she could… teach her how to draw, toll the bells, show her how Paris looks all the way up in the towers!
Or she will never want to see you again.
Mirela scoffed, her eyes traveling to the sketches in her room. She really hoped that wasn’t the case.
***
In the next three days, silence consumed the cathedral.
Mirela found herself perched near the ledge, looking down at the nave, hoping to catch the choir. The nuns never came.They’re busy, she told herself.Doing…nun-Ly things.But the stillness gnawed at her. Mirela couldn’t shake the feeling that she had something to do with it.
By the fifth day, hunger and sleeplessness had taken their toll. Her body trembled with fatigue; her stomach was hollow. When she finally succumbed to sleep, her dreams were full of phantom voices until only one remained.
Claire’s.
It was so definitive, so certain. It was her voice. But Mirela was so tired, so hungry that she couldn’t pull herself from the bed to go and see Claire once more.
She willed her body to react. Mirela awoke with a start. The heavy night air was thick in her lungs. Beside her bedsat a small basket filled with bread and fruit, and a bottle of wine. Her stomach growled as if to confirm it was real.
She sat up, dazed, and tore off a piece of bread. It was soft, sweet, and fresh. Completely the opposite of the dry scraps Ferron usually brought. She rummaged deeper, finding a wedge of cheese. Her eyes widened.Cheese and wine.Ferron had never left such things for her. What had she done to deserve this?
She bit into the cheese and closed her eyes, savoring the taste. For once, she felt full. She even smiled faintly, deciding she would thank Ferron later. Perhaps he was kind for once. Whatever the reason, she was glad to be eating fresh bread, delicious cheese, and wine.
The food helped her regain her strength. She felt stronger already. Tonight, she would toll the bells louder than ever!
Looking at the basket, Mirela pulled the bottle of wine and swallowed hard. She undid the cork and took a fast swig. Quickly, she narrowed her eyes and looked at the label. It was liturgical wine…
Her stomach turned.
It felt wrong to drink it…
Looking around her, as if making sure she was alone, she took a second mouthful of it and pushed the cork back on the mouth of the bottle before putting it backin the basket.
Rising, Mirela stretched and descended from her chamber, her bare feet making no sound against the stone. When she reached the nave, she paused as something stirred in the shadows near the far pews.
It was strange to have visitors so late in the evening, but as she focused her vision, she recognized the person.
Claire.
She sat in the dim corner, her hands folded neatly, her smile soft and knowing.
