The Maid of Chateau Winslow

by Pippa J Frost

  “Perhaps the meshing of the two pieces the siblings hold.”

  “No, it was something else. She regarded the beast as though he was someone she loved. Her fear vanished, and her face softened with tenderness. And we are aware of what she’s suffered at her brother’s hands and that there is no love lost between them.” Sixtus lifted a magnifying glass and aimlessly studied the map unrolled across the table. Carved stone horse heads were placed strategically by villages and cities. “I can’t be certain, but she seemed to be seeing something the rest of us did not. There’s no doubt Gian’s subject grows stronger.”

  “Gian possesses the ability to control their minds. He called to the darkness born in the Seelenfresser, and in doing so, he was able to suck any thread of humanity from him,” the king said. “Our one hope lies with the girl. She holds the Reinheit portion of the Zwilling power. These years have been hard on the girl, but still, she perseveres. She’s proven she has a strong spirit that isn’t easily swayed from her internal compass.”

  Sixtus turned and rested his hip against the edge of the table and met his vater’s gaze. “But did she need to suffer so? You speak of your love for humans and how our ancestors fought at their side. How we helped them when they were in need. You could have intervened at any time, but yet you wouldn’t allow it. Why?”

  “What are the virtues of an undefeated warrior?”

  “Strength,” Sixtus said with conviction.

  “Yes, but I do not refer to physical strength.” The king jabbed the side of his temple with a finger. “It is in here. And in here!” He thumped a palm against his chest, passion blazing in his eyes. “The beauty and the danger of humans lies within their minds. It is their strongest weapon and the battlefield where their greatest struggles are fought. A warrior finds strength when faced with adversity and forges courage when all is lost. It is not upon mountains where lessons are learned, but in the shadows of the valley. Hardships force one to trample the forest alone, and only those that seek out the light can rise to the warrior within themselves. The girl is unaware of the warrior that flourishes within her. The twin power survives on the likeness it finds within its host.”

  Valentina’s eyes, a mirror of the turquoise ice that sheltered the mountain, scrolled through Sixtus’s mind. Neither malnourishment nor her small stature had stopped the girl from carrying out the tasks assigned to her, that first day at the chateau. As his vater believed, he too had come to consider her a human worthy of a better lot in life.

  “Are you any closer to discovering how we can stop Gian from awakening the energies of the Seelenfresser?” Sixtus asked.

  “We have searched the writings of our ancestors for years. The Zwilling power manifested in dwarves is one thing, and we understand its strength and weakness. Existing within humans, it has exhibited traits contradictory to all the teachings in history.”

  “And the woman?” Sixtus said. “She hasn’t found anything?”

  The king dropped his gaze and sighed heavily. “She depletes herself with examining the scrolls I bring her. My trusted subjects have traveled to remote parts of the world to uncover teachings about the twin power.”

  “You can’t keep her in that tower forever. If your intuition is right, she too plays a part in ending all of this,” Sixtus said.

  “I concur. But until we comprehend how we can defeat Gian and end his plan to free the Vormacht, it’s unsafe to drop the veil and release the tower from the spell. Because once I do, and the Träger steps through into our realm, King Gian will know she lives. And if you’re correct in assuming he knows the girl carries the Reinheit, he will seek to unite the twin power to wake the black magic of the Vormacht. If he finds out about the Träger, he will stop at nothing to possess her, because in her lies the ability to hold both the Seelenfresser and the Reinheit in one form. Fused with the Vormacht, it would make him unstoppable.” The king’s knuckles turned pallid where they rested on the back of a chair, and fear flickered in his eyes.

  “And what is Valentina’s part in all of this?” Sixtus asked.

  “We assume, although the girl’s abilities haven’t been nurtured, she and the Träger embody the purity of the power, and together they can extinguish the darkness Gian has nurtured in the Seelenfresser.”

  Sixtus slammed his fist on the table. “There are too many uncertainties when Valentina’s life is at risk. Tell your men to move faster. We are running out of time. Twice, the beast has come too close to her. If it wasn’t for the girl’s friend, the mining dwarf, King Gian might have already succeeded.”

  “That is why you and Crispian must keep her in your sight until we have definitive answers. Now that the Seelenfresser has become its true self, King Gian will turn his attention to the Reinheit.”

  “And he will die trying,” Sixtus said with conviction. “His head will roll at my feet if he so much as cuts a strand of her hair.”

  The king crossed his arms over his chest and studied him. “You speak forcefully. Am I to assume you harbor feelings for the girl?”

  “No.” Sixtus’s voice hitched. “I will not see our kingdom fall or our tribesmen slaughtered.”

  His vater gave him an all-knowing look but said only, “Of course not.”

  Sixtus brushed off his vater’s insinuation, but as he rode out of Himmelart he recalled his vater’s words and laughed out loud.

  Crispian shot him a sideways glance. “What seems to have festered under your skin?”

  “It is nothing,” Sixtus said and clucked his tongue to spur on his steed.

  Valentina

  Summer blossoms perfumed the evening air and painted the front gardens with color. In the distance, the river, swollen by mountain streams, raced toward uncertainty. Overhead, the moon spied on me from its perch in the velvet sky as I strolled through the gardens. Gas lanterns, now in working order, lit the stone paths, and their shadows climbed the walls of the mansion.

  My thoughts dwelt on Nisse and where he had gone. Although my heart told me he would never abandon our village, I understood how grief could affect a person. What if he never returned? If he did, would he ever look at me the same way? Such thoughts played with my mind until I thought I’d go crazy. Each day the questions and uncertainties continued to accumulate, and with them came the feeling that I was trapped. And what of Flicker? Where was he? I hadn’t seen him. He held the answers I needed, and with each day my frustration heightened. The fear that I’d observed in the village had found its way to Chateau Winslow. After the incident at the river, Lord Winslow had hired men to protect his household, and the place had become a fortress with guards posted everywhere.

  “So deep in thought,” he said behind me, and I turned to squint into the shadows of the gardens.

  “Good evening, my lord. I do not wish to intrude. I’ll leave you—”

  “Please don’t.” He stepped into the light, dressed in dark slacks and a cream cotton shirt, and my heart raced. The glow of the lanterns glistened off his dark locks. “Do tell me, what has your face contorting with so many emotions?”

  “It is nothing, my lord.” I inclined my head.

  “It didn’t appear as nothing,” he said, his tone revealing a foreign warmth.

  Taken aback, I lifted my eyes to find him observing me tenderly. “Thoughts of home, my lord.” Despite my frustration with Flicker and my confusion over Nisse leaving, they were the only sense of home I had.

  He smiled. “Home does have a certain pull on the heart, doesn’t it?”

  The curve of his mouth and the gentleness in his eyes made my heart flutter. He was even more beautiful when he smiled.

  “Won’t you join me for an evening stroll?” he said, offering his elbow.

  I looked at the mansion. “I should go.”

  He grabbed my arm, and when I glanced at his fingers, he eased their grip. “Have I given you cause to fear me?”

  “No, my lord,” I said.

  Perplexed, he frowned. “Have you suffered while serving in my home?
”

  I shook my head.

  “Then why do you fear me so?”

  “I don’t fear you so much as choosing to proceed with caution,” I said, and when his eyes widened, I went on to explain. “If I may speak frankly, my lord?”

  He gestured. “Please do.”

  “You aren’t the approachable sort.”

  He sucked back a breath, and I cocked my head to look at him. “Go on,” he said with surprising calmness.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve had much fun in your life,” I said, and as quickly as it left my lips, I wished I could take it back. My mouth agape, I waited for a wave of insults, but he made a funny sound as though stifling a laugh.

  He cleared his throat. “Please continue. I’m finding this conversation rather enlightening.”

  “Well, most days, you seem bored to tears.”

  “How so?”

  “When we engage with you, it is as though we’re obstacles in your way,” I said.

  He winced, and I clamped my lips shut. I had said too much. What was I thinking?

  “And what else is on your mind? Please don’t hold back on my account.”

  “Nothing, sir. Forgive me.” My shoulders slumped. It wasn’t the first time my honesty had gotten the better of me.

  “A good dose of healthy criticism is good for you, my father used to say.” He played with his cufflink before eyeing me. “Continue.”

  “But, sir—”

  “I insist.”

  My heart pounded, and I swallowed hard before saying, “Very well. I wonder, do you simply exist in life, or do any emotions stir in you at all?”

  His mouth unhinged, and he stood gawking as if genuinely seeing me for the first time. “The situation is difficult. But yes, I assure you I feel like anyone else. I suppose life has taught me to be guarded.”

  “I understand wanting to protect oneself. But how can we truly love and find peace in this life if we don’t allow others to give us comfort and happiness?”

  Interest flickered in his eyes. “Do I sense you speak from experience?”

  “I’ve never had much, but the little I’ve had I treasure,” I said. “One thing life is teaching me is everything can change, and there is nothing we can do to stop it.”

  “There is a purity about you that is alluring. Sincere honesty that makes people reassess themselves.”

  Filled with guilt, I lowered my eyes and clasped my hands in front of me. “You’re wrong,” I said. “I’ve not been fully honest with you.” My eyes settled on the tips of my shoes. “Please, forgive me, but I was scared…”

  “Of what?”

  “Of my brother finding me, or the man he betrothed me to showing up to claim me.” I sighed and lifted my head. The nonjudgmental way he looked at me gave me the courage to continue. “I am Valentina Fürst, daughter of Piera and Timo. My parents vanished ten years ago. I grew up here in this valley, and my family’s homestead is a short wagon ride away.”

  “And where is this brother of yours?” His voice was tight.

  My body tensed, and regardless of the honesty he credited me with, I wasn’t ready to tell him of the beast that had swallowed my brother’s humanity. “He disappeared the night I left to seek work, hoping to find refuge here. When I took your daughters to town, a friend told me that rumors spread that the beast from the river came and took us.”

  “And you said nothing?” he said.

  Tears welled in my eyes, and my shoulders sagged again. “I thought it was my chance to be free of my brother and a future married to a man as vulgar and demeaning as Helias.”

  “I had wondered why a woman of your beauty hadn’t married. I thought perhaps you’d sworn off men.”

  I hugged myself to ward off the unpleasant memory of Helias’s attempts in town. “Because one man is a liar and a thief, it doesn’t make another less of a man.”

  “There is truth in what you speak,” he said. “Tell me. How does one so young become so wise?”

  I shrugged. “Sometimes hardships make one see life through a different lens. Am I to judge all men by Helias and my brother’s shortcomings?”

  His eyes grew distant, as though his thoughts captured his attention. “I suppose that would be unfair of one.” He focused on me. “You are extraordinary, Valentina Fürst, and I thank you for your honesty.” He lifted my hand to his lips and softly kissed it before releasing me. “It’s been a pleasure. Good evening.” He bowed gracefully at the waist before turning and walking back toward the mansion.

  I stood in shock at his sudden bluntness. Had I gone too far? Said too much? At the end of the path, he paused and turned back to look at me, then vanished into the shadows from whence he came.

  “Just one more story, Miss Wolf,” Zuna said between yawns. Tiredness glazed her blue eyes.

  Since the incident at the river, she’d awaken with night terrors. The first few occurrences, Lord Winslow and I’d met in the corridor in our nightclothes, his eyes wide with panic and my heart pounding. Once we understood what was happening, he left me to care for the child.

  “Not tonight. You must sleep.” I sat propped against the headboard with a girl snuggled into either side of me. Farrah had softened toward me and extended an occasional smile. The sisters had grown closer, and the way Farrah doted on her sister warmed my heart. Often, when I observed them, I wondered what it would be like to have a sister. To have someone to share your confidences with and who’d look out for you.

  The girls lay peering up at me, and I gave them both a gentle squeeze. “Tomorrow I’ve planned a picnic in the gardens. And I will share with you my favorite fairy tale of all.”

  The sisters looked at each other, and Zuna squealed.

  “How does that sound?” I asked.

  “Delightful.” Farrah removed her head from my shoulder.

  “Very well,” I said, kissing the top of her head and then her sister’s. I clambered off the bed before pulling the linens up under the girls’ chins. “Sleep well, princesses.” I dabbed each of their noses, and they grinned.

  I gathered their clothing from the floor and had turned to blow out the lantern when Farrah said, her voice heavy with sleep, “We love you, Miss Wolf.”

  Tears caught in my throat. “And I, you, Lady Farrah.” I blew out the lantern and walked toward the door.

  Hurried footfalls echoed in the corridor, and I stepped into the hallway as his lordship’s door closed. I crossed to my chamber and paused just inside as I caught sight of the red brocade gown laid out on the bed. I frowned and moved to the bedside. Next to the dress sat a pair of ruby satin shoes. A folded piece of parchment lay on the frock, and I unfolded it. The pattering in my chest galloped as I read the script:

  Miss Wolf,

  It would be my great pleasure if you would join me in the ballroom.

  Sincerely,

  Brett Winslow

  I set the parchment on the bed and stroked the silk fabric of the frock, then the full, delicate lace-trimmed sleeves.

  “He asked me to assist you, and I suggest we make it quick,” Yara said. I turned as she entered the chamber and closed the door behind her.

  Behind the privacy screen, I undid the buttons of my blouse and removed it and my skirt. Standing in my camisole and petticoats, I waited as Yara retrieved a corset from the wardrobe. After I’d slipped the undergarment on, she yanked on the strings, extracting a yelp from me. When she had finished, I felt like my ribs would crack at any moment.

  “Why do the wealthy subject themselves to such torture?” I grumbled, longing for the cloth bindings of days past.

  “Because it sucks away all the jiggly bits and snatches your waist while making your breasts sit like inviting little pillows of temptation for menfolk,” she said with a wicked grin as she buttoned the back of the gown.

  My cheeks burned and my mouth dropped open at her brashness.

  “You wait until a man knocks that innocence outa ya. Then you’ll wish you never waited so long to make love to a ma
n,” she said.

  “Yara.” Mrs. Potts’s displeased voice made her jump.

  My heart knocked. We hadn’t heard her come in and turned to face her.

  “Can’t you see you are embarrassing the lass?”

  “Aw, Mrs. Potts, I ain’t meant no harm. I was just informing her about the facts of life.”

  Mrs. Potts’s thick brows furrowed. “Because Valentina doesn’t speak candidly about facts best kept private doesn’t mean she isn’t aware of what goes on between a woman and a man. Now, let’s not dillydally. Fix her hair and get downstairs.” Mrs. Potts left Yara to finish up.

  Minutes later, Yara stood back to admire her work. “You sure are a sight. I’d never know you were the same rack of bones that showed up here all those months ago.”

  Dressed, my hair pulled back with jeweled combs and hanging long down my back, I murmured, “Thank you.” Nerves churned my gut at the thought of spending an evening alone with Lord Winslow.

  “Don’t look so scared. He ain’t the beast, looking to make you a bedtime snack.” Yara gave me a sideways glance as we strolled to the door. “He’s never done this before for a woman. Somehow you’ve managed to thaw his heart. I never thought it possible,” she said, her voice tinged with respect.

  Downstairs, I walked to the doors that had remained locked during my time at the estate but now stood open. Inside, massive crystal chandeliers lit the room in a rainbow aurora that splayed across the walls and oak floors. In the corner, a quartet played an enchanting melody.

  “Shall we?” Lord Winslow appeared at my side and offered his elbow.

  “I’m afraid I don’t dance that well.” I thought of the times when my mutter and I would laugh and dance in the fields as she tried to teach me. The ache for her squeezed my chest.

  “Follow my lead, and all will be well.” He thrust out his elbow, signaling me to slip my hand inside, and when I did, he placed his hand over mine. The tiniest of wings fluttered in my chest.