The fire crepitated lustily within the ingle as Anne squinted over her needlework and Godwin hand-fed his peregrine falcon with scraps of rabbit from the kitchen, her silver chain tinkling delicately as she shifted on her perch. We three sat in amicable silence, Lucian, Caine, Warwick and Carac having since departed. We had all dined privately in the solar dining chamber earlier (the smallest and most private of all the three dining halls) for the last meal of the day. Thankfully, Fendrel and his kin had elected to dine in the great hall. Sated, but troubled by the recent developments, I plucked distractedly at my harp and wondered at the whereabouts of the three younger Greybacks. I daresay they had hied off to the dungeon, thence to see Thomas who had been placed there the day before.

Henry, the master's steward, had dispatched himself home to his own humble manor, about ten miles south, there to await further news of his dishonored son, ostensibly ashamed and unwilling to reside a moment longer within Nørrdragor knowing that Thomas lay incarcerated in one of its cells.

"Father?" Godwin and Anne both looked toward me as I spoke.

"Aye, child," said he.

"Might I go down to..." I bit my lip and cast my eyes to my lap as his left eyebrow raised up a reproving notch; he had guessed accurately where the rest of my request would lead. He knew me well, 'twould seem. "I would like to see Thomas," I finished timidly.

"I doubt it not, yet my answer must be no."

I snapped my eyes back up. He had answered so indifferently, but the peremptory turn of his countenance left me in no doubt of where I stood. No remonstrance would I attempt in the face of his assumed nonchalance — no one ever dared dispute the master's wishes. I slumped my shoulders.

I was well aware that I was not a woman of any import for I was neither landed nor titled; on the contrary, I had been, for all intents and purposes, practically an orphan when first I arrived. Having admitted this much to myself long ago, I was not of the same mind as my adoptive family — that a man should die to assuage another's pride on the grounds that he had dared to touch another's property. Was that not what I was? Merely chattel sold by one man to another. But I was being harsh in my assessment, as they were in their judgement of Thomas. I uttered a troubled sigh.

Let them think that, if they wished — that I was resigned to their ruling. I was, on the contrary, quite determined to set things aright, by any means necessary. The notion of my being reconciled to the imminent death of a friend, by virtue of the fact that he had loved the wrong woman overmuch, was inconceivable; and I would be damned if I allow myself to turn craven now. Listening with half an ear, I contemplated all that happened, and everything that would likely eventuate, as the conversation between Godwin and Anne waxed around me, but when all became silent of a sudden, I looked up, the sound of silence deafening for the abruptness of its arrival. My guardians were both looking at me askance, my preoccupation duly noted.

"I beg your pardon. I was too much in my own thoughts," I apologized sheepishly and blushed as I set my neglected harp onto the floor at my feet.

"Perhaps we may aid you in finding a new direction for those troubled thoughts." Anne smiled kindly at me and then transferred it cheerfully to Godwin as he moved towards a small chest, of exquisite woodwork, that had earlier been placed onto the mantlepiece. I had been wondering all evening as to its mysterious contents.

"Do you know wherefore Carac and I have been abroad these last weeks?" Godwin inquired. I shook my head in the negative.

I had of late come to realize that by peppering the Greybacks with queries, I was less likely to receive a satisfactory answer. I had also learned that the answers invariably came to me in time and therefore I kept my own council and endeavored to be patient: a quality I possessed a great dearth of and a talent I was not exceptionally good at.

"We have been recently to Heathersea for business and, during my stay, I sent Carac to your erstwhile residence to acquire something." He lifted the small box and then, with elegant poise, moved to stand beside me. My ears were now perked excitedly, hungry for news of my former life. "I petitioned Edwyn, on your behalf, for a particular artifact.

"You see, I thought it unforgivable that you had no token of your late mother's legacy, and so I requested from him a keepsake: something that was hers and that he would give freely into your keeping." I was utterly enthralled by his every word.

"Though I have no opinion of Edwyn, miserly fool that he is, Carac was, fortunately, able to browbeat the man into relinquishing this," he held out the small chest to me and I took it directly, lifting the lid with eager fingers.

There, on a bed of red velvet, lay an antique, golden armband engraved in loving detail with long, graceful wings that lay flush against a wolf's long body. I immediately slipped it onto my arm, it's claws splayed delicately against the bones of my wrist.

It was an odd canine body, almost snakelike as it coiled around my wrist. I brushed my thumb nail delicately over the polished adamantine garnets that made up it's red eyes. There looked to have been more detail carved into the gold, perhaps the nap of fur or the plumage in the wings, but scores of years had removed all traces of the finer detail. But of this I could be certain, it was a wolf with giant wings.

On the inside of the band was a faint runic inscription. I was not very fluent in the old symbols, but I could make out the gist of what they meant.

Two bodies. One heart. "What does it mean?" I asked. I could understand the letters clearly enough, but the meaning behind them perplexed me quite.

"I cannot say." Godwin rubbed his chin between his thumb and forefinger thoughtfully. "Edwyn knew naught but that it was an heirloom. His wife was a quiet sort and spoke little about her family. They have ever been a recondite matter even to him, I believe." He seemed wholly dissatisfied by the mystery of my mother's progenitors. "I am only happy that I took this from him before he took it into his head to sell it off."

I myself could offer little in the way of information; Mildred had not been able to tell me overmuch what I craved to know about my birth mother. her family had disproved of her marrying Edwyn and had threatened to disown her if she did. She, however, blinded by love, had done so anyway only to regret it later. Edwyn, enraged that his wife's family had offered no blessings and, moreover, no dowery, proved himself to be little better than an impoverished pig in gentleman's clothing.

Mildred had been my mother's maid at Buttongrass. Cara had eventually descended into bitter unhappiness, her husband's duplicitous duality of nature having shocked her thoroughly, but she was far more hurt by her family's abandonment of her and did not, therefore, maintain communications with them henceforth. Though Mildred believed they had reached out to Edwyn once, after I was born, but that he sent them away.

I had told this all to Godwin years ago and he, no doubt, had done his own investigating. Whatever he had discovered in the interim, he did not say, but I believed that he would tell me when he had definitive news to offer.

"I do think it strange," he said, "that the animal is dual-natured." His eyes bored intently into mine. "Very curious indeed."

Feeling the need to steer the subject from my unknown origins, I smiled and thanked him for securing the armband for me; all the while I continued studying it ... as he continued studying me. I stroked it reverently before slipping it off and putting it back into its box.

"That is not all I have brought back. We had something commissioned for you," he cleared his throat awkwardly, "whilst I was away at Heathersea." He produced another small box from his robe and I took it gingerly into my hands. "Anne designed it entirely." Godwin smiled enigmatically as I glanced betwixt them, and my mother-in-law was beaming with pride while she waited for me to open their gift.

Inside the box was a vivid sapphire of purest, crystalline blue that sat nestled, in its claw setting, atop a dainty golden band. It too was inscribed:

Aria Greyback, thou art the beloved daughter of our hearts, 1370.

I looked up to see a distinctive sheen in Anne's eyes. "Tis your birthstone," she sniffled. "It represents loyalty and trust." A sapphire was also thought to symbolize heaven and it certainly looked heavenly, had been masterfully crafted, in fact.

Godwin had, by this time, folded Anne into his arms, which surprised me as he seldom displayed his affection openly. They stood thus, anxiously watching me. A rare smile now pulling at the corners of my father-in-law's lips as my own eyes welled with emotion. I placed the ring carefully on the forth finger of my right hand where it fit perfectly then wrapped my arms around my parents for a heartfelt embrace which they reciprocated heartily.

"Thank you both. Tis truly beautiful!" I exclaimed.

I was steeped in the aftereffect of happiness, and brimming with energy, so voiced the initial thought that had come to me when Godwin had confessed where he'd gone.

"But what news from home?" I withdrew from the comfort of their arms to look up into Godwin's, once again, stern visage.

"There is news. I have much to impart-" he was frowning now.

"How is my old nurse?" I interrupted excitedly. I longed to see Mildred again and perhaps one day soon I might.

Godwin's frown grew yet more severe.

"Mildred?" he clarified. I nodded briskly. "I am terribly sorry; I little know how to tell you..."

"What is it, Godwin?"

"I wish I did not have to bear the news to you myself, child, but Mildred passed away a few short months after your departure."

I clapped my trembling hands over my mouth with a shocked gasp which brought Anne directly back to my side. She walked me to her chair where I sagged to the floor and wept into her lap as she tenderly stroked my hair. When the heaving cataract had tapered into whimpering hiccups, Anne daubed lovingly at my cheeks with her kerchief, kissing one and then the other.

"How?" There was no confusion as to what I was asking.

"Consumption," he replied grimly.

She would have thus died slowly, and painfully, coughing to death. The thought stirred fresh tears from my bruised eyes.

Anne took my chin gently and turned my head so that I was looking into her empathetic gaze. "Oh, my beautiful girl," she said soothingly, "I know how much you loved her, but your sweet Mildred was, by all accounts, quite ill; and I doubt not that she lived each day in far too much pain. Was it not, therefore, kinder that she should leave her earthly pain in favor of a peaceful realm?"

"Aye," I nodded weakly, wiping at my cheeks. "Yet is it not unjust that one such as she, loving and pure of heart, should suffer so cruelly?"

"Forsooth, it was a cruel death," she conceded, "but it would have been crueler still to live any longer.

"Ariana." Anne and I both turned to Godwin, who seemed anxious to discuss something in particular. "There is much I would discuss with you-"

An abrupt knock sounded at the door ere Godwin had the chance to voice his thoughts. Lucian stepped through the doorway without preamble and fixed his grim countenance on me, although it was his sire that he addressed.

"Father..." he said, raising his brow significantly.

"Aye, I am coming, Lucian." Godwin laid his large hand on my shoulder and to me he said, "We shall speak on the morrow. I have much to impart, and tis long overdue..."

"Where are you going?" I asked, glancing between them suspiciously.

"In due course, Ariana. I promise, on the morrow you shall know everything."

He then kissed Anne's cheek and repaired to the hall, leaving his son looming in the doorway. I was, meanwhile, under the influence of Lucian's ever watchful eyes. He beckoned me forward with a fractious nod of his head.

"Come, Aria." There was an edge of presentiment in his tone which compelled a coldness up along my spine.

Without waiting to see if I would obey, he turned on his heel and withdrew, presumably expecting that I should follow. His arrogance thereby daring my contumacy.

"You ought not to keep him waiting, dear." Anne looked worriedly towards where her son had disappeared. I sighed and did as my monitress advised me, leaving her side to follow my overbearing husband.

When I reached our chamber, he was already waiting at the bedroom door for me to precede him within, but I had sorely misconstrued his purpose in delivering me thus, for he remained at the door with an almost compunctious look about him, as if dreading what he next would do.

"I do not trust that you will stay here tonight, Aria. I therefore loathe what I must do, but that does not signify for tis necessary," he sighed ruefully, "that I lock you in this chamber till I return."

"You will do no such thing!" I hissed.

"On the contrary, I cannot risk your leaving here tonight. I know where you would go if I did not, out of a misplaced need to please you, restrict you to this room.

"Lucian, no!"

"No amount of entreaty will sway me." He looked pained by the decision, I would concede that much, yet I was too incensed to care just then.

"You would keep me prisoner here?! While you feed Thomas to your pet?" My scathing response, no less vitriolic for the tears of fury staining my cheeks, only ignited Lucian's ire. I knew that he found my penchant for interrupting him, mid-speech, an irksome habit that I possessed in abundance, but it was my cutting intonation that riled him now. "Murderer!" I spat. "Leave then, and go see to your vile purpose!"

He was momentarily stunned ere his own fury tightened his eyes once again; even I was shocked by my own vehemence. Some rational part of me seemed to look on from afar with woeful disapproval, but I seemed more inclined to heed the little devil who whispered these awful words into my ear, as opposed to my angel of logic. Furthermore, that same demon, who urged my tongue to do its nefarious bidding, doubtless found that 'twas a heady and harrowing feeling indeed — provoking Lucian's eyes to flame.

"What the devil has you possessed?!" His glare was potent, but wary withal. I almost laughed at the absurdity of the question for his thoughts had, unwittingly, mirrored my own.

"If you lock that door, Lucian, I vow I shall bar it to you every night hereafter! You had best find some place else to sleep tonight!"

"Oh I intend to!" he countered.

"Let me alone then, you beast!" I screamed. His flinch was slight, but I did not miss it's brief appearance afore his features hardened.

"Call me what you will, but I know you, Aria, and I am convinced that you will flee into the woods at the first chance that presents itself to you. I do this for your own good because... I love-"

"Do not say it! If that were true, you would not now be contemplating this madness! Away, Lucian! I see you have already made your decision."

And I have made mine! If it was the last thing I did, I would find a way free of this chamber — even if I had to climb out the blasted window to achieve that end.

"Tomorrow you will understand." Lucian's scowl was tempered somewhat by a rueful turn of his compressed lips and he seemed on the verge of entreating me to understand his motives, but I would not be moved and, sensing as much, he closed the door firmly.

"I think not!" I vowed at the closed door and listened as he placed a bar audibly across the other side of it, thereby barring me definitively from slipping away into the night... as I had planned to do all along. Lucian knew me capable of that at least, and so here I was: trapped and helpless within my chamber.

It would have been a certain folly if I had not at least assured myself that I was absolutely locked within the room. I, therefore, pushed at the door, rattling it vigorously, and — having determined I had indeed been imprisoned — slammed my palms furiously against the wood, yelling for Anne until my voice turned hoarse; but there came no reply without.

With a final blow of my fist, I walked dejectedly to the bed and planted myself at the edge as I considered the great height from the chamber window down to the courtyard below. More tears slid wretchedly down my cheeks as I scanned the room for possible escape routes, but my eyes came back, again and again, to the tapestry that hung a small distance away, beside the fireplace.

The image was as prevalent in the keep as the insidiously frosty temperature: the wolf and the two babies. This depiction differed from the others slightly, in that the wolf seemed to be guarding the children as it stared out threateningly at the viewer; it had always caused my flesh to prickle and itch uneasily. It was not grim or gory exactly, yet strangely macabre all the same. I grabbed an expensive, silver chalice from the table and threw it at the tapestry in a pique, but instead of creating the sound I had expected, it seemed to produce a bit of a resonating clunk as if it had hit a hollow piece of wood, instead of the stone I presumed would lie behind the fabric.

I stood and made my way quickly to the tapestry and pulled it away from the wall to slip behind the heavy drapery, the thick dust eliciting a cough from me as I did so. Verily, I was shocked to discover that there was, in sooth, a hidden door tucked away behind the heavy covering and nestled secretively into the stone wall. An astonishing revelation indeed!

The portal's handle was recessed into the wood so that it lay flush with the wall and, pulling excitedly at it, I realized, with a disheartened groan, that it too was locked to me.

"Blast!" I sat back and crossed my legs, resting my elbow on my knees as I dropped my face into my hands. "Now what?" I exclaimed, choking with lachrymose disappointment. "Would that I knew where the bloody key..." The key! The thought came unbidden to me as if a ghost had whispered the answer into my ear.

I pulled the silver chain out from within my gown, where the key had settled against my heart, the bow warm in my hand as I slipped the blade into the keyhole of the little hatch. I held my breath as I twisted the key in the lock.

Click

The sound of the lock releasing was melodic to my anxious ear. I pushed at the portal door. It moved encouragingly with a scraping groan of rusty disuse and when I had opened it far enough, I peered warily into the black abyss beyond.



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