Vines cling to the scrollwork of the iron gate. Small white flowers bloom, giving off a pleasant scent. The gate closes with a solemn clang behind us. There is no sign as to who or what could’ve closed it. The sound echoes within me with the same finality as a curtain closing on a performance.
We bumble along a winding road between hedges and small trees. It’s like a miniature version of the ancient forests, without that same heavy oppressiveness that the true forest gives off. In the distance, I see a stag raise its mighty, regal head. There are so many points on its antlers that I know most noblemen would literally kill to have it on their wall. What does it say about this Lord Fenwood that he would allow such an animal to live unharmed on his property?
Eventually, the overgrowth gives way to a circular, gravel area and the carriage comes to a stop. The butler opens the door and helps me down. I get my first look at Lord Fenwood’s manor.
It arcs around the circular end of the drive with two wings stemming out from a central tower. Here is the castle that the wall promised. The mortar work is old but well-kept. I have an eye for these things now, after repairing my family’s manor as best I could so many times. The thatching on the roof looks fresh.
There’s nothing that’s inherently uninviting and yet the hair on my arms stands up straight. The air here feels charged. The manor is literally at the foot of the woods I swore to my father when I was a girl that I would never enter. So I nearly jump out of my skin when the butler unloads my trunk heavily on the gravel.
Beware the woods, Katria. Never go into them. Swear to me, on your mother’s life, you will not. It was her dying wish to spare you from them.
“Apologies, Lady Katria.” The butler jostles me from my thoughts.
“No apologies necessary.” I force a smile and readjust the lute on my shoulder. My predicament is not this man’s fault, and the best thing I can do right now is try and make allies where I can. “And just Katria is fine.”
“Katria it is then.”
“May I have your name?”
He seems startled I would ask and then thinks about the answer for what I consider to be way too long for such a simple question. “Oren.”
“A pleasure to meet you.”
“Come along, night is falling and we should see you settled before dinner.” He hoists my trunk with surprising ease for a man of his years and leads me up three steps and into the grand entry of the central tower of the castle.
I am instantly struck by the craftsmanship of the place. A wooden stairway, with a scrolling banister of lilies and lifelike vines, arches around to the left of the entry. Windows flank the doors on either side, with colored glass leaded together to form intricate landscapes of fields and mountains. I run my fingers over their dark outlines, feeling the ridges of the metal that connects them.
“Is everything all right?” Oren asks.
“Yes. I’ve only seen windows like this in the town hall.” Glass art is a lost craft. There are a few who keep up the old ways, and they’re found mostly in the larger cities. They rarely come out to places this remote. This house must be ancient and it’s a wonder these windows have survived at all. Or perhaps the lord can pay to have someone out to his estate for such crafts. Lord Fenwood is rich beyond all imagining from what I can tell so far.
“They are rare indeed.”
He leads me into the left wing. Before we enter the arched door I try and glance up the tower. But I can see nothing beyond where the stairway curves behind the first landing. “Does the master of the house live up there?”
“Lord Fenwood comes and goes as he pleases,” the butler says obscurely. I wonder where he would go; any semblance of civilization is well over two hours away. Perhaps he is a hunter who came into rare fortune and now seeks thrills by going deep into the woods.
“He has a lovely home,” I say instead of pointing out that the remark was not an answer to my question. “I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t want to spend more time here.”
The butler pauses in the middle of the hall. Windows that overlook the circular drive line our left, doors on our right. The silence makes me worried that I somehow offended him with the remark. Though I can’t see how.
“There are a few rules you’ll need to know,” the butler says as he begins walking again. I expected rules to accompany my new situation and brace myself for them. “The first is that, should you need anything, you merely need to tell me. I will be available to you as I am able. However, as I am the only attendant of the home, I am often busy elsewhere maintaining its upkeep. I will come to serve you dinner every night, and should make you breakfast most mornings, so one of those times would be the best opportunity to inform me of anything you require.”
“That is most generous of you.”
He continues as though I haven’t spoken. “The next rule is that you are only permitted on the front half of the estate grounds—along the road we entered on—and under no circumstances are you permitted to go into the woods.”
“That’s no trouble,” I say easily. “That was a rule from my father as well.”
“The final rule, and the most important one, is that you are only permitted to leave this wing of the manor during daylight hours, regardless of what you hear or see.”
“Excuse me?”
“These rules are for your protection,” he says, glancing over his shoulder. “We are far from town and close to the woods. The mists are thicker here and carry the old magicks. It’s not safe for humans to be out at night.”
I try and channel a bit of Helen’s bravery when I say, “You can’t be talking about the fae. They are nothing more than old wives’ tales.”
He chuckles as if I am a foolish girl, as if he has seen the fae with his own eyes and has lived to tell the tale. “Fine. If nothing else, worry about beasts of the wood. As long as you are within these walls you will be protected. But where the walls end, my master’s protection ends as well. Do you understand?”
“I do.” But I don’t know how I feel about it all. I suppose the rules aren’t unreasonable. And I have long ago given up the notion of going into the woods. I wonder what Father’s reaction would be if he miraculously reappeared to discover that Joyce has married me off and my new home is so close to the dark trees that line the impassable mountain range that edges our corner of the world. Moreover, I expected my freedoms to be reduced once I was married and they seem to have expanded some.
All told, my new arrangement could be far worse.
We come to stop at the last door of the hall. As the butler pushes it open, the hinges catch and squeal loudly. He has to put his shoulder into it.
“Apologies,” he mumbles. “This wing of the house never sees much use. I will fix that while you eat dinner.”
“Tell me where the tools are and I can fix it myself.”
He seems startled I would say such a thing.
“Don’t let the dress fool you. I’m more accustomed to work trousers than satin.”
“My master made a vow that you will want for nothing; he will take care of everything for you. I will see it fixed while you eat,” Oren says somewhat begrudgingly. I wonder if his master would punish him for allowing me to do work. If he would be willing to allow me to do it on my own, but is unable.