Zachary excused them so they could change from their soggy dresses.
Aurora climbed into the bed once she had put on a warm cotton nightdress with frills at the sleeves and neck.
She and Aurora lifted the fur duvet and climbed in beneath it. Claire left two candles burning because Aurora was terrified of the dark. They left one of the windows open, as was their tradition. The curtain danced wildly to the rhythm of the wind. The breeze was cool and sweet, threatening to blow out their candles with each wave.
Zachary poked his head at the door. "I should leave now."
Claire glanced out the window. "Why don't you stay with us? It's just one night."
Zachary averted his gaze. "It won't be proper, milady. I'm not afraid of a little rain."
Aurora lifted her head, grinning at her sister. "What?" Claire asked. Aurora patted the space in between them. "He can stay here."
Claire looked at Zachary. He didn't dare meet her gaze.
Then she lifted the covers. "Don't be shy. We don't bite."
Slowly, he walked towards the bed. He kicked off his cuffed leather boots and climbed inside, careful not to press her limbs. By the time his head laid on the feather pillow, he was red in the face. Both girls laid their heads on his chest.
"You're breathing faster than a horse." Aurora said after a while.
He let out a nervous laugh. "I am not used to..."
"Sharing a bed with two beautiful girls." Claire completed for him. He turned towards her, his lips brushing her hair. She snuggled even closer.
"Always visit." Aurora said, her voice cracking. Claire blinked back a tear.
"I'll try."
"That's good enough." Claire said.
Claire saw herself walking in the woods again. There was a slight wind, causing the trees to rustle around her. She was barefooted, dressed only in her nightgown. The ground was wet and moist beneath her feet. A wolf howled somewhere in the dark. She glanced up. It was a full moon. Her breathing started accelerating, her sight became blurry. The moon gradually became red. She glanced around her. The creature growled in the trees near her. She stepped back, bumping into a tree stump and landing on her back. The growl sounded closer and closer. She closed her eyes, struggling to stifle a scream. A huge green-eyed wolf with black fur leaped on her. It stared at her, drowning her in its gaze. The more she looked, the more her fear vanished. Its growl no longer startled her. Then, with a final howl, it returned back into the woods.
"Wait!" She called it at the top of her lungs. "Don't go!"
And she woke up. Zachary and Aurora were staring at her. Aurora's hair was sleep-tousled, her face creased. But the worry in her eyes drew Claire's attention.
"Is it the same dream again?" Aurora asked. Claire was still struggling to catch her breath.
"It was."
Zach rubbed her back. "It was all a dream. Nothing more."
Aurora slid from the bed. She was drenched in sweat, her hands trembling.
"I'll get you cool water. You can't be trembling like this in front of Uncle Jarren."
Claire watched him disappear through the door.
She'd had the same dream the night of the fire.
She climbed down from the high bed and draped the robe around herself. They were yet to pack their things for the journey. All morning, she kept replaying her encounters with the king in her head, as well as her nightmare. Each time she remembered the kiss, something in her abdomen fluttered. "You should sell the house now that you're no longer going to live in it." Zach suggested while they ate.
Claire ran her hands over the table. "But what would I do with the money?" He rubbed his brow.
"Keep it for Aurora's dowry, perhaps."
She scoffed. "We both know Uncle Jarren would take it from me." "Then what do you intend to..."
"We're not selling it. I grew up here, so did my father and his fathers before him. He'd turn in his grave if I sold it." Aurora tilted her head. "Father would be very proud of you."
Claire covered her face with her hands. She had often wondered if her father approved of the decisions she made, wherever he was.
The luxurious carriage sent by Uncle Jarren finally arrived. Claire was pale. The footman carried their few boxes and deposited them in the following wagon. Aurora kept admiring the horses, all brown stallions with thick black manes.
Zachary had long since left. He didn't want news of his presence to reach Uncle Jarren. And he hated to say farewell.
Once in the carriage, the rider drew the reins.
The seats were made of costly leather. Claire stared at the house as they rode away, hoping that she'd still see it again. The farther they got, the colder she felt. And each time she looked out the window, she kept seeing shadows of the wolf she saw in her dream. She glanced at Aurora to see if Aurora saw it as well, but Aurora appeared unperturbed.
Maybe she was running mad, she thought.
By near dusk, they arrived at Uncle Jarren's place. The Penbrook, it was called.
The house was magnificent, made of bricks and chiseled stones. Rose bushes surrounded the driveway and populated the garden. Her stomach sank as she saw the familiar tall figure she despised waiting at the entrance. Beside him was a slender boy and a few servants. That must be Arlan, she thought. "What a beauty!" He cried as they alighted from the carriage.
The stable boys came to take the horse. One of the horses became wild, thrashing this way and that. Two boys struggled to retain it. One of them, the taller one with longer hair, pulled out a horse whip.
"Don't hurt him!" Aurora cried, rushing forward. The carriage rider grabbed her.
"Stay away from this, girl! Just one touch of its hooves would send you to your father."
Yet, Aurora kept wriggling.
"Leave her alone!" Uncle Jarren commanded. Claire's gaze turned to him. He was wearing a fine cotton shirt beneath a brocade. His hair was swept neatly to the side and his beard was cleanly shaven.
Aurora ran to the horse. "He's hurt." She pointed at the metal object poking out of its foot just within the horse's shoe. The boys' eyes widened in surprise. The one with the raised whip lowered it immediately. "My thanks, milady." "Come, Rory." Claire called.
Aurora turned in a swish of long skirts and ran to her sister's side.
They both did their hair the same way, braiding it down their back. Aurora wore a peach-colored dress whereas Claire wore a bright green one. She loved green dresses. They complemented the color of her eyes.
Hand in hand, they walked towards the awaiting party at the entrance.
Her grip on her sister tightened, as if in preparation to bolt at the last minute. Through the side of her eyes, she saw the servants carrying their belongings inside the manor.
Somewhere in the distance, a cock crowed loudly. Everywhere was still wet from the aftermath of the previous day's rain. The smell of soaked wood filled the air. Uncle Jarren took her hand in his, smiling widely. Too widely.
"You must be weary from your journey, my dear. Come inside." He said to her.
He led her inside, his grip firm. He hadn't acknowledged Aurora, she immediately noted. Arlan avoided her gaze as she passed him. Claire glanced over her shoulder at Aurora. Arlan was leading her sister inside. Candles had been lit in preparation of the dusk. The receiving room was clustered with furniture, limiting the room for passage, but it was breathtaking nonetheless.
"When I heard you had accepted my invitation, I decided to throw a banquet. I hope you will forgive my extravagance." He said, placing his hand at the small of her back. She tensed slightly at his touch. He muttered something to the servants that entered behind them. As he dished out orders, she noticed that his hand at her back slipped even lower. She shuddered, thoroughly disgusted. "May I be shown to my room?" She asked, needing to get away from him.
"Oh yes, Margaret will show you there, my sweet." To Margaret, he said. "Her room is across mine."
Margaret nodded and gestured for Claire to follow her.
As she left the room, she saw Aurora and Arlan deep in conversation in the hallway.
Why was her room across his? She wondered as she ascended the carpeted stairs.
The maid's skirt rustled behind her with every movement. The female servants' uniform appeared to be a dull gray dress with a bony collar. Their hair was tucked neatly under a tight cap, leaving Claire to wonder what color of hair the woman had. At the end of the stairs was a long hallway. Her room was at the very end of the hallway. A raven was perched on the sill of the open window, staring at them.
Margaret screamed at it and it flew away in a flutter of feathers. She leaned forward and closed the window, thus revealing her ankles. Her ankles were red with fresh bruises.
A shiver ran through Claire, and she quickly averted her gaze.
Then, under the dim candlelight, the maid produced a key and unlocked the door to Claire's new room.
She walked inside slowly, taking in the four-poster feather bed, plush carpeting, and huge windows. There was a huge hearth burning, illuminating the room with its flames. A chamber pot laid at the corner, next to a little wooden table.
"Would my sister be sharing the chambers with me?" She asked, suddenly afraid of having to sleep alone. She bit her lip as she awaited the expected response.
"No, milady, the master had this room cleaned for your use only." Claire's shoulders sank. "Oh." She murmured.
"If you are in need of anything, ring this bell." Margaret said, gesturing at a bell she hadn't noticed before.
Then, the servants curtsied and left the room.
The room smelled of wood polish and sun-dried linens. The curtains danced in the breeze. She moved to the window and opened it wider. Her hands kept shaking.
Did she make a mistake coming here? Would her father approve? He and Uncle Jarren never got along well, although she had never been told the reason.
A knock on the door startled her. A muscled boy with a stature too mature for his age came in, bearing her box. He stopped in the middle of the room, staring at her. She returned the stare, blinking.
"Put here?" He gestured at a corner of the wall. Then Claire understood. "Anywhere is fine."
The boy raised an eyebrow. His hands were trembling from the weight of her box.
Even Zack had complained about how heavy it was, asking if she had packed bricks instead of clothes. "Down." She gestured at the floor. The boy lowered the box slowly. "Thank you." She muttered.
The boy nodded and left. He looked like the type of person that preferred work than talking with people.
"Stop sulking, Claire. You have to prepare for dinner." Aurora said as she entered the room. Her little sister was grinning from ear to ear. "Why are you so happy?" Aurora shrugged, sinking down at the edge of the bed. The bed creaked softly under her weight.
"Arlan is such a fine boy." Claire laughed.
"Oh Rory, I thought so too."
"He said he would take me horse riding on the morrow. I've never rode a horse before. Father used to say I was too young."
Claire walked towards her, kicking her knees playfully. 'In my eyes, you're still too young." Aurora rolled her eyes. "I'll soon be eleven." Claire shrugged, ruffling her braided hair.
"Not much different." Aurora pulled her down to the bed with a tug. "You've been moody since the dinner yesterday. Is there a reason?"
"I didn't want to come here." Claire lied.
"I'm no fool. You've been different. Not angry and bitter."
Claire fell back on the bed. Why wouldn't she be different? She just kissed the king.
"I don't know. I miss Zach."
Aurora laid down next to her, their heads brushing.
"Me too. Will we ever see him again?"
"We will. Just not as friends." Claire said. Uncle Jarren upheld the class distinction mentality like a religion. "Since you're not marrying Arlan anytime soon, what are we going to be doing here?"
A deep sigh erupted from her parted lips.
"The days will tell, Aurora."