The Beautiful Pretender (A Medieval Fairy Tale #2)(4)

Avelina retrieved her metal tool out of her woolen bag. She picked up the first box and went to work with the hooked end of the long, slim piece of metal she had gotten from the castle blacksmith. In a few moments she had opened the box, and a few moments after that, the second box lay open.

Dorothea barely gave the boxes a glance. “Put some into each bag so all of my jewels are not in one place.”

Avelina wrapped the bejeweled necklaces, bracelets, and rings inside various pieces of clothing. Soon she had nearly filled a second bag.

A noise came from outside. Dorothea ran to the narrow window and flung it open, letting in the cold, late-autumn air. She stuck her head out. “Dietric!” She gasped the name, then flung her arm out, obviously throwing something down, possibly a note. Then she stood still, her hand covering her mouth as she watched.

Avelina turned back to her task, lest Dorothea scold her, but she listened for signs of what was happening behind her at the window. After a few more moments Dorothea let out a cry of joy. “Make haste and give me the bags.”

Avelina tossed her a bag, and Dorothea pushed it through the small window and dropped it, then turned and held out her hands for the second bag and tossed it down as well.

Avelina approached the window as the end of a rope came sailing through. Dorothea caught it and tied it to the post of the solid oak bed.

She wanted to ask Dorothea if she was certain she was doing the correct thing but instead caught hold of her arm.

Dorothea’s cloudy green eyes barely met hers. “You should not try to stop me, Ava. I will not yield nor give Dietric up. Not for anyone. I don’t care what Father says.”

“I will not try to stop you.” She thought of hugging Dorothea, of telling her to be careful. But it wasn’t the sort of thing her mistress would stay still for.

Dorothea grabbed the rope. Avelina helped her up to a sitting position inside the window as Dorothea said, “Don’t go and marry some peasant farmer who can’t give you pretty things.”

Without another word or even a smile or glance, Dorothea quickly lowered herself out the window, hand over hand on the rope. Avelina hung her head out the window to see Sir Dietric standing below with outstretched arms. Dorothea made it to the bottom without losing her grip and was enveloped in her lover’s waiting arms. He helped her onto her horse, then mounted his own, and they disappeared into the dark night and thick fog.

“Fare well, Dorothea,” Avelina whispered. “You were sometimes cross and vindictive, but we were companions for many years, and I will miss you.”

What would her life be like without Dorothea? And what would happen to Avelina now that her mistress was gone?

If Avelina went and told the earl that his only daughter had run away with one of his knights, he might be able to send some men to intercept them and bring them back. But what if Sir Dietric was killed in the struggle or Dorothea’s father had him executed? Dorothea would never forgive her. Besides, if she was able to get away, Dorothea would obtain the one thing that Avelina had dreamed of, written stories about, and imagined in many a long hour—true romantic love—about which the troubadours sang, the subject of epic poems and tales.

No, out of loyalty to Dorothea and a hope that she would be happy and live a life of romance and adventure and love, Avelina would not tell Lord Plimmwald that his daughter had run off with Sir Dietric.

At least not until he realized his daughter was missing and sent for her maidservant to tell him where she had gone.

Avelina could not run away, as she must think of her two young siblings. Jacob was twelve and Brigitta was only six. Her father needed her to help care for them. Besides, she had never ridden a horse in her life, and there was no knight waiting below to carry her away to adventure and love.

Avelina was left to await the consequences of Dorothea’s actions alone.





2



AVELINA WAS AWAKENED by a shaft of sunlight across her face, pouring through the window where the shutter was slightly ajar. She jumped out of bed, nearly falling headfirst on the floor.

Why was she on Dorothea’s tall bed instead of her own narrow cot in the next room? Then it all flooded back to her—Dorothea’s flight, Avelina’s inability to sleep, how she had wandered into her mistress’s room and lay down on her soft feather bed. She’d been dreaming about being trapped in a gloomy, dark, half-ruined castle where there lived a beastly lord so hideous and animal-like that no one would go near him. The mood of the dream still enveloped her like a fog.

She fell back across the bed. For once in her life, there was nothing to do—no Dorothea to wait on, no hair to braid, no clothing to mend, no shoes to clean, no games to play to amuse her young mistress. So she lay thinking about her unsettling dream.

She could still see the castle, but its lord was a dark figure obscured by shadows. “He’s a beast,” a maidservant had whispered in her ear. Her skin tingled as she tried to get a better look at him. He suddenly growled at her and she jumped. That was when she woke up.

Avelina should be thinking about what she would say to Lord Plimmwald when he discovered that Dorothea was missing. Would he know where she went? What would he do with Avelina? She needed this position as a maidservant to take care of her family. Her father could no longer work, and her younger brother and sister would starve without her pay.

A knock came at the door. That would be Dorothea’s breakfast.