The Beautiful Pretender (A Medieval Fairy Tale #2)(44)

Avelina hurried to tidy her hair. Irma was almost never around to help her with her hair, her dress, or anything else. Irma had confessed the night before that her new friend, Gerhaws, had introduced her to another servant—a man with whom Irma was obviously infatuated, as she was now not even coming back to her room overnight to sleep. Avelina wanted to warn Irma that the manservant would break her heart when they had to leave, but she couldn’t imagine Irma would be eager to hear any advice from her.

She scurried to Magdalen’s door, but before she could knock, she noticed a piece of paper attached to the door.


I am waiting for you at the balcony.

M.

She glanced at the end of the corridor. The guard was not there. Where had he gone? And if Magdalen was waiting for her at the balcony, then she must already be with Lord Thornbeck. A pang of jealousy attacked her like a bird of prey, its talons gripping her heart.

No. She stomped her foot to force her heart to listen. I will not allow jealousy to get hold of me. Magdalen was her friend, and Avelina could never have Lord Thornbeck anyway.

She hurried toward the balcony. She would be joyful for Lord Thornbeck and Magdalen.

So why did she have to blink away tears as she walked?

When she arrived at the gallery, the long, narrow room’s only light came from the windows and the moonlight outside, as all the torches and candles had been snuffed out. As she walked the only sound was the swishing of her skirts and scuffling of her slippers on the stone floor. The portraits seemed to watch her as she passed, their eyes following her. Her heart beat faster, and she was thankful when she reached the open door at the other end of the long room.

Avelina wrapped her arms around herself, as the air was quite cold, and stepped onto the balcony. She looked to her right. A young woman was there, alone, leaning against the railing, but she was not Magdalen.

“Good evening, Lady Dorothea.” Fronicka said her name slowly, drawing it out. “Come and have a talk with me.”

Avelina took a step forward, then stopped. Something was amiss. Where were Magdalen and Lord Thornbeck? Why was Fronicka here?

“It is a beautiful night, is it not?” Fronicka smiled in a friendly way—almost too friendly.

“It is.”

“A little warmer. Quite warm for this time of year.”

“Hm, yes.”

“The sky is beautiful. Did you notice?”

Avelina gazed up. Perhaps Lord Thornbeck and Magdalen decided they wanted to be alone. Another pang smote her breast, taking her breath. They would be married soon. Of course they did not want her around.

Fronicka motioned her closer to the railing. “If you stand over here, you can see a few of the lights from the town, and also a few more stars.”

How strange that Fronicka was behaving this way. Did she want something? “What are you doing out here gazing at the lights and the stars?”

“I had nothing else to do.” Fronicka smiled.

Cautiously Avelina approached the railing and looked out. She did not see the lights Fronicka had spoken of, but she did not care enough to ask her about them.

“So, is it you or Lady Magdalen who will marry Lord Thornbeck?”

Avelina started to say, “It is not I,” but she stopped herself. Fronicka was up to something. So she said, “I suppose only Lord Thornbeck knows the answer to that question.”

Fronicka looked over the balcony railing. “This is such a beautiful place, is it not? I can see the rose garden from here. Look.”

Avelina took another step closer. She laid her hand on the railing and looked down. The rose garden was visible to their right by the light spilling out from the lower-floor windows inside the castle. But straight down was a sheer drop, a ravine with small trees and bushes growing out of it, so deep she could not see the bottom. She looked back at Fronicka. The hair on the back of Avelina’s neck prickled and she shivered. She should have brought her cloak.

“Who are you, Lady Dorothea? Are you truly that lady? Or are you someone who has come here to take her place?”

Avelina stepped away from Fronicka, and the railing pressed into her lower back. “Why would you say such a thing?”

“No reason, except that I recall hearing that Lady Dorothea had golden blonde hair, and yours is brown. And that Lady Dorothea’s eyes were green, but yours are blue.”

“Many people’s hair darkens when they get older.” Let Fronicka not see panic in my face. “I don’t know why you are so suspicious, Lady Fronicka.”

Fronicka started fingering the embroidery on her belt. “I wanted to marry Lord Thornbeck, but he barely looks at me. He’s too busy spending time with you and Magdalen.”

“Why did you want to marry him so badly? There must be another titled man to whom your father could betroth you.”

“I had a reason to want to marry Lord Thornbeck.” Fronicka’s smile was cold and sent a shiver down Avelina’s spine.

“Are you in love with him?”

“What a naive thing you are. Of course not. Love has nothing to do with marriage.” Fronicka stared up at the sky for a moment. “I wanted to marry him to get Thornbeck. It rightly belongs to my father, and once I married him . . .”

“You would kill him, and your father would take over.”

“You are not as foolish as I thought.” Fronicka stepped toward Avelina.