Pulling herself from the haze of memories, she focused on her breathing, willing her body to calm. Even the short walk to and from the bakery had worn her out and made her legs sore. In and out, relaxing her muscles, in and out, deep breaths. She shoved down any thoughts of what her husband was doing. Pushed it away and breathed. The banging in her head quieted. The blankets were warm, the room silent.
By the time the tea was delivered, Lenna was already asleep.
Chapter two
Lenna
Thegoldenstoneglowedunnaturally, throwing disorienting shadows against the craggy walls. It was the sole light source in the dark room, yet it gave off no heat. Lenna shivered. If anything, the stone made the room seem colder, sucking into it any warmth that remained.
A crumpled figure in the corner groaned as death approached. Leathery wings rustled out of eyesight. “Esmeray…” The old man weakly lifted his head. A flash of gold illuminated the crone’s crumpled body. Chains clanked together. A dungeon.
In the fracture of light, Lenna could see sunken eyes, dirt caked into his matted white hair. Dried blood from some old wound remained on his face. “Esmeray…please…”
Another flash of gold.
Then–total darkness.
A feminine voice broke the silence, otherworldly and smooth, “I’m sorry, old friend… This is the only way.” A gurgling noise…then…nothing.
The light shone closer to the crone and death stared back. A gloved hand came into Lenna’s view, closing eyes that would never see again. Another whisper of wingspierced the thrumming silence.
The gold light faded, leaving the unmoving body in shadow. The last thing Lenna could make out was a small, peaceful smile on the old man’s face.
Lennabolteduprightinbed, sweat pouring down her back. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the morning light creeping into the room. Her heart raced.Just a dream, she told herself over and over, willing her erratic heartbeat to slow.
Shoving the nightmare from her mind, Lenna stretched her arms above her head, rolling her neck between her shoulder blades. She felt–good.For the first time in a month, no lingering soreness remained behind her eyes, no tension knotted in her back.
Elation itself was a rare occurrence, but the alleviation of mind numbing pain allowed Lenna to get out of bed and draw open the curtains with a renewed flourish. The main reason she chose this room lay right outside the tall window. Sprawling flower gardens dotted the Estate’s fields, a colorful and lively contrast to the gloom of the Manor’s interior. Needle straight hedges pushed out from circular, well-groomed beds exploding with color after the recent rains. Past the garden, tilled plots bustled with servants busy harvesting vegetables and herbs for the kitchen. In the distance, smoke from the town’s chimneys wafted lazily towards the clouds, no bigger than the tendrils that puffed from Leon’s expensive cigars.
Leon.
As Lenna picked her discarded robe off the floor, she wondered how he fared this morning. After drinking, Leon typically awoke with a nasty hangover and an even fouler mood. Sliding her feet into soft slippers, Lenna aimed for the dining hall in the center of the house to find out how miserable the Lord was feeling. Though she ignored the vicious paintings that lined the walls, dread followed each of her footsteps.
Leon already sat at the long wood table that had been a wedding gift from her late father. Since most of the Doortan socialites moved south years ago, the grand table was rarely set for more than two. As Lenna entered the room, the smell of alcohol and a sticky, musky odor met her nose.
“Good morning, husband. I prayed to the gods in hopes you had a restful sleep,” Lenna exhaled, failing to clear her nose of the stale stench and plastering a vapidly cheery disposition on her face in response. She pulled out a chair across from Leon and sat down. Even with the bright morning outside, the shadows pooling in the corners of the dining room seemed permanent, as if they refuted the sun’s claim to shine in here. The Lord of Doortan Estate was nearly invisible behind the large newspaper that held his attention–not even deigning to look up. Lenna smoothed the wrinkles from her robe, reminding herself to take a calming breath as Leon grunted an answer and continued reading.
The silence pressed in, sullen and bottomless. Lenna busied herself with a biscuit that had been set on the table prior to her arrival. Cutting it in half and generously buttering both sides, Lenna scowled at the back of the newspaper. The quiet was suffocating. Lenna searched for some sort of words for her husband. Anything to break up the crypt-like atmosphere in the dining room. “How did you sleep?”
Leon slammed the paper down so hard the plates rattled, causing Lenna to startle and revealing the blotchy start of a black eye on the right side of his face. “What the fuck, Lenna. Are you blind? I’m reading thegodsdamned newspaper.Whyare you so chatty this morning?”
“Leon.” Lenna pursed her lips against the retort that bubbled up, searching his face for any sign of the smart, kind man she met at the tender age of twenty-one when they married. That man had changed–years of anger and alcoholism irrevocably warped his features. Eyes that used to be shining indigo were replaced with cold hues of grey and blue. The dark brown hair that she used to love running her fingers through at night as they lay in their marital bed was barely still there. Thinning as much as his patience with her was. “Would you like me to get something for your eye?”
“It’s fine,” Leon growled, bits of spit landing on his plate. “I fell in the study. Don’t worry about it.” He snapped the newspaper back up, blocking her view of him. Lenna shook her head, focusing on her breathing as her hands trembled.
Servants filed into the room, smiling at Lenna while giving Leon a wide berth, setting tea, fruits, and eggs on the table. Lenna took a sip of her tea, still staring at the newspaper concealing her husband. Part of Lenna wanted to leave it alone, finish her breakfast, and get out of the room. The other part, something reckless and dark inside her, wanted to push–to push until Leon exploded. To push until she felt something,anything.
“You fell? Did anyone help you up?” The feigned innocence of the question held a sting of venom. That was no fall. Falls didn’t make a perfect circle around one’s eye. A small circle–like a fist. A fist that was probably connected to a certain servant that was glaringly absent from breakfast service.
Without moving his newspaper, Leon reached for his own tea. Half of his scowling face appeared as he glanced down into the white cup.
“Brandy,” he snapped at the servant hastily placing sugar and honey on the table–a youngman named Marlo Asrar that Lenna hired last spring. Marlo was very sweet and very quiet around Leon, but was a ruthless gossip when Leon was out of sight. He knew everything about every servant currently employed at the Manor. She’d ask him later whatreallyhappened.
Marlo disappeared from the dining room, returning a beat later with a bottle of brandy. He poured a few mouthfuls into Leon’s tea while glancing over the Lord’s head, giving Lenna a little wink.
Oh, he definitely knows,Lenna thought to herself. She crinkled her nose at Marlo behind her teacup and he gave her a quick bow of his head before slipping from the room.
Ignoring the possibility of another outburst of Leon’s temper, Lenna cleared her throat, sitting up straighter against the hard backed wooden chair. “I’m going to take one of the horses out today and check the plots in the gardens that started yielding carrots.” As much as Lenna hated small talk, this at least broke up the unending silence, and now that the help was around, she didn’t want whispers of her as a sullen Lady of the Manor scaring off any potential servants she’d hire for the coming months. “I’ll have Marlo come with me. You know, he’s overseeing his first plot of vegetables for the season. And I’ll speak with our gardeners about the rotation of herb beds.”
