Cobweb Forest (Cobweb Bride Trilogy) (6 page)

“My dear Lord Beltain! And Percy, my dear girl!” he said, taking the knight by the hand and then taking Percy in a similar manner, with the difference that he brought her hand up to his own lips for a proper courtly greeting worthy of a
lady
.

Percy was so amazed and chagrined that for a moment she said nothing while the men exchanged greetings as though nothing was amiss.

“However did you find us? And how did you manage to be here so swiftly?” the Count asked. “I admit to being amazed, for when we parted ways at the Sapphire Court, our two parties were headed in opposite directions!”

Beltain explained briefly that they had traveled with the help of nothing less than the gods. He then cast one careful glance at Percy, not venturing to explain their reasons for being here just yet.

Percy meanwhile, was observing the behavior of the death shadow that was waiting obediently at her side, as she had told it to wait. But at the same time it was vigorously pulling at her,
pulling
to be reunited with the Cobweb Bride.

“How is the Countess Arabella and—and Lady Leonora?” Percy inquired, deciding that directness was the best way to proceed.

The Count’s expression momentarily changed from warm amiability to something a bit more uncertain. “They are quite well, thanks to you, naturally, dear girl. We’ve had a very hasty ride here, and to be honest, have just arrived ourselves early this morning. Again, I marvel how you’ve found us, for I have just acquired the keys and the lease to this house, and no one but a trusted handful knows we are here—certainly no one up in the San Quellenne Castle knows, nor any of the local nobility. We have taken such great care, you know—”

And the Count went on to describe the intricate plans he had laid in place many months earlier, for just such a possible need to escape from court and its increasingly dark politics. Even before their daughter Lady Leonora fell ill and was hidden away by the Sovereign several weeks ago, and then freed by Percy from the Sovereign’s secret chamber filled with sorcery and cobwebs—even before that, the Count had made arrangements to procure a residence in distant Tanathe, and to have all means ready for his family to uproot themselves and travel, just in case things became dire and such a last resort became necessary.

“And thus, here we are,” he concluded. “My wife and daughter are still resting upstairs, and I do think the journey has taken its toll on them—Leonora especially. My poor child has suffered such an ordeal, and she is particularly weak and very pale, and has no appetite. I should be concerned about her recovery, but it will come later, soon as we get the change to rest and recuperate—”

Percy and Beltain exchanged glances.

“Ah, but do forgive my lack of hospitality!” the Count D’Arvu said loudly, recalling himself as host. “You must be parched and famished, and I will order a room prepared for you—though you must forgive the fact that our own belongings are hardly unpacked, and the carriage stands in the back while the servants unload and make the rest of the house ready for all of us.”

And the Count rang a bell to call his servants and ordered refreshments to be brought up in haste.

“I am armored for war, and it would be some relief to the girl and myself to remove our winter clothing,” said Beltain, deciding to let Percy be the one to make the first mention of their true reasons for being here, in her own good time.

“In that case, off you go, my dear Lord Beltain, I will not keep you in your plate and chain mail! A change of clothes and refreshment will find you upstairs. By the time you are restored, we can dine together, and the women of this household will be up from their sleep and ready to properly receive you.”

P
ercy took a firm hold of the death-shadow of the Cobweb Bride with her mind and directed it to move closely at her side. She then followed Beltain and two maidservants leading them up yet another flight of marble stairs to the upper third floor where the corridor of bedchambers was located. The house was an older venerable villa, erected around a solid framework of cool stone and with solid soundproof walls of sufficient thickness and clever masonry to retain a pleasant temperature indoors regardless of weather outside.

The maids took them to a large airy bedchamber where the furniture was covered with sheets, and then bustled to make the room ready.

There was a grand four-poster bed in the middle of the chamber and Percy looked at it with sudden warmth in her cheeks. Meanwhile, Beltain seemed to be no less affected by the implications of the single bed, as he turned his back to her and began to remove his plate armor with the assistance of a valet who had swiftly arrived after the maids, to offer his services.

“Would you like me to take that, Miss?” said a young maid, pointing to Percy’s coat and shawl.

Percy knew better than to argue. She was soon down to her coarse burlap and wool dress, and the maid ran off somewhere then returned with a light cotton dress which she set on the bed. The material was not costly fabric but ordinary country clothing that a simple country lady or even the maid herself might wear.

Before anyone could protest, two sturdy wooden bathtubs were brought in, one after the other, by four burly servants who looked as if they had been borrowed from country fieldwork.

Next, came endless buckets of water, steaming hot, and finally the baths were ready. Two maidservants came to stand in the middle of the room between each tub, holding up the ends of a large opened sheet to create a curtain of privacy. The valet helped Beltain disrobe further and enter his bath, while the same was done on Percy’s side with a maid.

Even though she had gone through a similar bath service at the Silver Court once before—though admittedly this was much simpler and countrified—Percy still blushed when disrobing, and still felt the awfulness of revealing her threadbare underclothing to anyone.

But sinking into the heaven of hot water made her forget everything else—even the ever-present billowing death-shadow of the Lady Leonora that stood patiently waiting a few steps away in the corner of the room, invisible to all but herself. . . . The bliss of the warmth, the overwhelming relaxation after relentless events of so many days, was a pleasure unimaginable to Percy. She hardly even noticed when a maid came to help her wash her hair, because she was utterly groggy with sleep.

The maids with the privacy curtain had also gone away while she was not looking. The next moment she opened her eyes and focused, Percy could see Beltain a few feet away, seated in his own bath. He seemed to sense her scrutiny immediately because he too turned his face in her direction
 . . . and she saw the blooming of his soft smile and the intimate look of his slate-blue eyes.

Percy felt such a breathless pang of joy in her heart at the sight of him, with his wet curls of slick hair and the water running down his face and his great bronzed shoulders, and his mesmerizing kind eyes, that she felt herself flushing beyond any heat the bathwater held.

She smiled back a him shyly, and quickly turned away, and then the next moment the maid poured a bucket over her face, so it was all for the best anyway.

A
n hour later they were washed clean and dried and clothed into a fresh set of simple but well-made clothing from the D’Arvu family personal or guest wardrobes. Beltain was now clean-shaven and wearing a white linen shirt with loose lace-trimmed sleeves, dark pants, and buckled shoes that were likely fashionable at some point at the Sapphire Court, but now were sufficiently ordinary so as not to provoke undue foppish attention. It was fortunate that the clothes fit his very tall and large muscular frame, for they certainly must have belonged to some other gentleman than the Count who was a much smaller man.

Meanwhile Percy had her hair swept up in a simple but attractive knot arrangement and was attired in a light dress with a tightly laced and somewhat revealing bodice that left her neck and shoulders and some of her chest frightfully uplifted and exposed. After the maid was done lacing it from the back and left her to her own devices, Percy spent several futile moments attempting to pull up some of the fabric higher over her bulging bosom and tucking it around the armpits of the sleeves, while Beltain stood watching her with amusement. It only made things worse when Percy realized the direction of his gaze upon her and the fact that his eyes once more seemed so very dark, and their dilated pupils overwhelming the irises, as he stared at her—to be precise, certain parts of her, in particular.

“How can ladies wear such peculiar dresses?” Percy muttered, because she felt she must say something to cover her embarrassment.

But in reply he continued to
look
at her, so that Percy felt herself on fire. And then he said, “You have never been to a Court assembly, my sweet girl. The ladies there are always close to naked. Your dress is quite demure and you look—very
well
in it.”

And then Beltain smiled.

Percy’s heart had no time to even begin racing because in the next breath he offered his arm to her. “Come,” he said. “They are waiting for us downstairs, and you have an important task ahead of you.”

Percy exhaled with a shudder and nodded. She then took his arm, feeling an immediate outpouring of honey warmth at the place where their arms touched. And then she called upon the nearby death shadow to proceed after them.

T
he D’Arvu family had gathered in the parlor. The Count had not bothered to change for dinner. Seated on a brocade-and-silk upholstered divan, the gaunt and dark-haired Countess Arabella was dressed far simpler than Percy had ever seen her to be, as a country matron. Next to her, Lady Leonora their daughter wore a flowing girlish dress of mauve silk and linen that emphasized the pallor of her skin and offset her chestnut curls.

The moment Percy saw Leonora, pale and stiff-backed, and with an apathetic glassy stare, she had no remaining doubt that the young woman was dead. And oh, her death shadow! How quickly it flew to be at her side! It was as though an invisible string of power was jerked, tossing it forward across the distance, and setting it next to her rightful mistress, at long last.
 . . .

The culmination of all things was now at hand. But first, the formalities had to be observed.

“Come, my friends!” said the Count, to his guests and then, turning to his wife and daughter—“We are blessed to have our dear friends in our midst once again, and so soon!”

Beltain bowed, and Percy curtsied very carefully. The Countess arose from her seat and rushed forward to take Percy in a very unexpected motherly embrace. “Welcome, dear child, you are always welcome in our home, wherever it may be!”

The Lady Leonora turned her face to the visitors and then arose somewhat stiffly and curtsied also. Her chestnut hair was sweetly arranged, and she was attempting to smile, but her facial muscles were struggling to form the movements necessary, and the result was neither here nor there.

It pained Percy to look at her and see her for what she was, even though neither her parents nor she herself had any idea of her true condition.

After everyone was once again seated, a small pause ensued.

“Percy Ayren, I must thank you again for saving me,” Leonora said, her voice measured precisely and slightly monotone.

“Lady Leonora,” said Percy gently. “I only wish I could have done more. . . .”

And then Percy steeled herself and clenched her hands at her sides, and continued, “I wish—I wish I did not have to say this, and—and things had turned out differently. Maybe, if I had gotten to you sooner—”

“What do you mean, my dear?” Count Lecrant had been looking away at something else in the room, cheerfully ready to summon the servants for pre-supper refreshments, but the tone of Percy’s voice made him turn back and look at her with attention.

But Percy was looking at Leonora, unable to take her eyes off her, and her expression was unnaturally composed, controlled somehow. None knew it, but she was watching the maiden and her death, how they were together, how close to its seated mistress the shadow stood.
 . . .

“I am so sorry to say this now, dear Lady Leonora, but I must. We have come here, returned to see you so soon, but not for a happy reason. As you remember, we thought we had the Lady Melinoë with us, she who was the Cobweb Bride. We took her to see Lord Death in his Keep. But we—that is, I, everyone—was mistaken. The death that was attached to her was not her own—”

“What are you saying?” the Countess D’Arvu interrupted, paling.

Lady Leonora had grown absolutely motionless. She regarded Percy with her glassy eyes.

“I am saying, the death shadow at Lady Melinoë’s side belonged to someone else—another lady—it belonged to
you
. I am sorry, Lady Leonora, so sorry, with all my heart, but I had to return, and bring the death back here, to you. Your own true death stands now at your side, waiting. . . . You are the rightful Cobweb Bride. And I must return you to Lord Death, so that the world can be set aright once more. Will you come with me, My Lady?”

The room had become as silent as a grave. The afternoon sun came in soft dappled patches through the window and upon the old marble of the floor.