The Beautiful Pretender (A Medieval Fairy Tale #2)(9)

Avelina wondered if Thornbeck still had cherries.

As the night wore on, she could barely force her eyes to stay open. When they stopped again to rest, she curled into a ball on the ground and fell asleep.

She awoke to someone shaking her shoulder.

“Get up, my lady.” Someone shook her again. “Lady Dorothea.”

Avelina startled, jerking away from her, then remembered. It was Irma, and she was only practicing calling Avelina “my lady” and “Lady Dorothea” before they reached Thornbeck Castle.

“How much farther?” Avelina asked as the guard helped her mount her horse. He boosted her up, and she had to cling to the horse’s mane to keep from falling off, as if exhaustion was making her so heavy it was pulling her back down to the ground.

“Another hour or two.”

They continued on their way. Irma had all but ceased talking, and when she did speak, it was usually to say something such as, “I can’t remember when I’ve ever been so tired. I may fall off this horse yet.”

When Avelina’s head bobbed forward, forcing her to jerk herself back upright, she started pinching her arms and then her cheeks to stay awake.

“I see something,” Irma said, the old excitement back in her voice. “Is it the castle? No, I think it’s the town.”

A walled town lay below them in a slight valley. They skirted around it, following the wall to the east of the town, then came around the south side. They started moving up a winding road, and that’s when Avelina saw the castle.

Thornbeck Castle stood high on a ridge that rose out of the forest. A single road led up to it, with tree-lined ravines all around. Several towers of varying sizes, some with pointed roofs and others flat and ringed with crenellations, stood out against the moonlit sky. She could see no other details in the dark, except that the terrain around it seemed steep and heavily forested. The castle itself stretched out along the ridge behind it, giving it a somewhat narrow facade, but it appeared much larger than Plimmwald Castle.

A bend in the road blocked Thornbeck Castle from view. The air had been getting steadily colder since they’d left Plimmwald, and now a gust stirred the loose strands of hair around her face. She shivered. Finally, this exhausting journey would end. She had been dreading the moment she would reach the castle, but now she was all too thankful at the prospect of getting off this horse and out of the cold.

They drew close to the front of the castle. A guard and a stable boy came toward them, and Lord Plimmwald’s guards caught the harnesses and brought their horses to a halt.

I must remember I am not a servant. I must behave as Dorothea would . . . as the daughter of an earl.

She did not wait for someone to help her down. She slid off the saddle and handed the reins to the approaching stable boy. Her backside and thighs were so sore, it hurt to move, and exhaustion made her weave and list to one side as she walked.

She should be pretending perfect grace.

The guard announced her as Lady Dorothea, the Earl of Plimmwald’s daughter. Irma allowed her, as the daughter of an earl, to go first. She put one foot in front of the other up the stone steps to the front door.

A white-haired middle-aged woman greeted her in the entrance hall. “I am Frau Schwitzer. Follow me and I shall take you and your maidservant to your room.”

Avelina followed her, with Irma just behind. They made their way down a long corridor, lit by wall sconces, and then up an enormous staircase, and finally arrived at a door. The servant opened it and motioned them inside.

“There is water in the pitcher. I shall bring a small repast from the kitchen. Is there anything in particular you require, Lady Dorothea?”

Avelina stared and blinked. “No, but thank you very much.”

She probably should not have thanked the servant. Dorothea certainly would not have thanked her.

The woman eyed her for a moment, then nodded and closed the door behind her.

Both Avelina and Irma moved to the fire and stretched their hands toward it.

“I can’t even feel my feet.” Irma took off her shoes, pulled down her hose, and held one naked foot out toward the flames.

Avelina ought to tell Irma that a lady’s maid should ask her mistress what she could do for her. She should not be tending to her own needs. But Avelina was not a lady, and she couldn’t bring herself to pretend to be one to poor Irma, who was as cold and tired as she was.

The servant soon returned, placing the tray of food on a small table. She gave Avelina a pointed look. “Is something wrong? Is the food not to your liking?”

Avelina should not be standing back. She should be sitting down to the food and dismissing the servant.

“Oh no.” She searched her memory for what Dorothea would have said. “It looks very . . . adequate. We shall ring the bell if we need anything else.”

The servant curtsied, then slipped out, closing the door soundlessly behind her.

The food was more than adequate. It looked like a feast. Avelina sat down, and Irma quickly joined her and took a bite of the fruit tart. The tart apples and plums tasted like summer sunshine, and the delicate pastry melted in her mouth. Her brother, whose favorite fruits were apples and plums, would have loved it. Even though it wasn’t cherry, it was still delicious.

Feeling indulgent as she sampled all the foods on the tray—there was even cheese!—a pang of uneasiness flowed through her.