Lost in the Castle

~24~

I exited the dressing room clad head to toe in silver, pewter, and charcoal, even as Katerina entered my chamber, followed by Alina.

"I can never eat that!" I called, appalled, when I noticed the quantity of food they brought for my breakfast.

"You haven't been eating enough lately, my lady. Or sleeping. I don't want you falling ill. You must think about your husband, what would he say..." she went on, mumbling, while she deposited the multitude of pots and plates on the small table by the window.

"As if I was able to do anything else than to think about my husband, Katerina," I muttered under my breath.

The door opened again, letting Clara and Shadow in.

The wolf headed directly for the fireplace, startling Alina, who was feeding wood to the hungry flames. He shook himself furiously, sending tiny droplets of water flying in all directions, making the maid jump back.

I giggled, then bit my lip, trying to compose myself as Alina shot me an unpleasant look.

"You must join me for breakfast, Clara," I told my companion, trying to forget the maid.

"As you wish, my lady," the girl said, and I noticed how sad and tired she looked. The dark rings under her eyes looked familiar, very similar to those I had had for the last few days. And her Ioan only left the previous night.

We sat down to breakfast while Katerina and Alina set to their chores.

Clara was very quiet, she looked so worried that for a moment I wondered what Ioan had told her. If she knew as much as I did about the missing girls. No, Ioan wouldn't tell her. Not after what happened to her sister, I thought. I would have to choose my words carefully around Clara until they came back, not to let anything slip.

Once we had finished eating, Katerina shepherded us to the library. To my surprise, I felt relieved not to find Junior there. I had noticed how I could not look in his green eyes anymore without thinking about another, similar pair of green eyes. And I could not think about those without feeling sick with worry. When will he be back?

Clara settled by the window, taking out her needlework again while I sat at the writing desk, observing the books on the shelves, trying to decide which one to take out. After a while, I dismissed the idea altogether. No way would I be able to focus on reading. I lay my head down on the desk, eyes closed, one cheek pressed to its cool, smooth wood. It would be a very long day.

After some time, Clara took pity on me.

"Maybe I could teach you to embroider, my lady," she offered.

"I have never done anything of the sort," I confessed. But concentrating on learning something, anything new, sounded better than doing nothing at all.

"That might be interesting then." A voice came from close behind me, soft and full of mirth. The speaker's hand rested among my loose curls spread over the desk with the easy familiarity of an old friend.

I tensed, unsure of the propriety of the unexpected gesture, at least in Clara's presence, surprised by how close we had become. How fast.

Junior must have realised what he had done as well, his hand vanishing immediately. Being closed inside these rooms over the last few days, united by our anxiety for the man we both loved, made us feel as if we knew each other much longer, as if we were family... But wasn't everything happening a bit too fast here, ever since I came back?

I opened my eyes and noted that the room had become much darker. It was snowing heavily outside. Again. I stood up and walked over to the fireplace, avoiding to look at Junior, who circled the desk from the other side, coming to sit in my chair. Lighting a couple of candles from the fire, I brought them over to the window where Clara was working.