Shadows at Stonewylde

8



In the Great Barn, folk shivered and glanced nervously at the dark shadowy corners. Everyone wanted nothing more than to be back home now, safe in their beds. Many of the teenagers who lived in the Hall decided to stay the night in the Village in their parents’ cottages, and others were offered beds for the night to save them walking back in the violent wind and rain. There was also the fear of lightning strike, and nobody wanted to be caught exposed on the track leading up to the Hall.

As he stood inside the Barn amidst the turmoil, Yul realised with a jolt that Sylvie was all alone. He hoped desperately that she’d reached the shelter of the Hall before the storm really broke. Whilst people going back to the Hall milled around finding cloaks and lanterns and gathering to walk home together, Yul knew he must get back immediately. There was a phone-line in the Barn and he tried to ring the extension in their apartments but the tone sounded strange and there was no answer.

Pulling his cloak tightly around his Samhain robes, Yul hurried out into the wild night. His hood was blown back immediately and, lowering his head, he ran as fast as he could against the wind. He was hampered by his robes and cloak flapping around and tangling between his legs, becoming wetter and heavier by the minute. The trees danced frenziedly in the howling gale as Yul raced up the track, focusing on the thought of Sylvie alone and scared, trying not to think of the other fears that jostled him in the darkness. He felt hag-ridden – as if malignant forces were all around trying to stop him reaching the Hall. Several times he stumbled to his knees in the darkness and once fell headlong over a fallen branch, grazing his hands and jarring his wrists.

At last the huge blackness of the Hall loomed into sight. Almost crying with relief, his face awash with rain and hair plastered to his skull, Yul made a final surge towards the great wooden doors. He was exhausted by the struggle to get home and the events of Samhain, and frantic to find Sylvie – as much for his own comfort as hers. He skidded across the hall’s polished parquet floor, his sodden cloak heavy around his legs, and raced up the dimly-lit stairs. All was gloomy as he crossed the landing and wrenched open the door to the grand apartments.

He was hit by a wall of darkness when he’d expected light. It was almost palpable and beneath his wet cloak and damp robes, Yul’s flesh raised in goose-bumps.

‘Sylvie?’ he called, but his voice came out hoarsely. ‘Sylvie, where are you? I’ve come back!’

His skin prickled with fear – where was she? Maybe she’d gone to bed? He tried to turn the lights on but nothing happened, so he stumbled through the grand sitting room, bumping into furniture in his haste, and made his way down to the bedroom.

‘Sylvie?’

Still no response and his heart thudded with dread. He shivered violently, his head ringing with the heavy silence. He groped around on the dresser where he knew there were candles and matches. His cold hands fumbled with the box and he dropped it, the matchsticks spilling on the dark floor. He knelt and grabbed one, managing at last to light it. It flared, blinding him, then extinguished itself.

‘Sylvie!’ he called, louder this time. ‘Sylvie, it’s me – I’ve come back. Where are you?’

He lit another match and this time succeeded in lighting the wick of the candle. The flame bloomed and steadied, and Yul held the candlestick away from him to look around. The bed was empty and unslept in. It suddenly occurred to him that maybe Sylvie hadn’t come back to the Hall after all. Perhaps she’d remained in the Village – gone to see if the children were alright in the Nursery and then stayed there. Which meant that he was now alone in these apartments. The thought made him shudder again.

Shielding the candle’s fragile flame, he retraced his steps back through the empty bathroom and children’s playroom and into the enormous sitting room. The flame did little to illuminate the vast area, dazzling his eyes and making the shadows even blacker.

‘Sylvie?’ he called softly, wanting more than anything the reassurance of her voice. The flame flickered and Yul’s heart lurched as he saw her cloak lying across the back of the chair. So she was here – but where had she gone? Cursing the power cut and wishing the candle was more effective, he crossed the room to the fireplace. On the mantelpiece under the gigantic mirror was a candelabra. Carefully Yul started to light the candles but then a movement in the mirror caught his eye and his skin erupted into bristling terror as in the reflection before him, something sprang up behind him in the darkness and screamed and screamed.

Yul spun round, the candle-flame in his hand almost extinguishing, to see Sylvie standing by the window, her hands to her cheeks and her eyes and mouth gaping wide in absolute horror. The screams poured from her and as quickly as the flame allowed, Yul hurried across the room to comfort her. She was beside herself, her body convulsing and hair rippling as she shook, her hands clamped to her face and the nails digging into her cheeks. Juggling the candle and trying to put his arm round her was impossible, but then suddenly the power came back on and the room was flooded with light.

Blowing out the flame Yul took Sylvie in his arms and held her tight, waiting until the terror subsided. She could barely speak but shivered compulsively, shaking her head and apologising, clinging to him and crying softly.

‘Did you smell it?’ she whispered.

‘Smell what?’

‘When you came in here first, did you smell anything?’

‘No,’ Yul shook his head, ‘no I didn’t. What was it?’

‘Why did you say you’d come back? Why did you keep saying that?’

‘Because I had come back,’ he said. ‘I don’t understand. Why were you so upset?’

But she wouldn’t answer and after calming her down a little more, he ran a hot bath. An hour later they were both in bed, warm and dry and sipping tea. Sylvie couldn’t tell him what had scared her so much and he was loath to push it – whatever it was had now gone. She was reluctant to turn the light off and Yul teased her gently about this, getting out of bed to put a light on in the bathroom and leaving the door ajar, so their bedroom was softly lit.

‘Silly old thing,’ he murmured into her hair as at last they stretched out, lying in each other’s arms. ‘It’s me that’s usually spooked at Samhain, not you.’

‘I was so frightened when you were stumbling about in the dark,’ she mumbled, almost asleep. ‘And you said that you’d come back …’

They both drifted off to sleep, exhausted from their earlier fear and the long day, but during the night Yul awoke and reached for her. She smiled sleepily, drowsy but welcoming, and pulled him towards her. Propped on an elbow and half asleep himself, Yul kissed her deeply while he caressed her, knowing her so well. Soon she was gasping, wanting him urgently.

But as he braced himself above her on the point of making love, her eyes suddenly shot wide open. In the faint light, hovering above her, she saw her worst nightmare. This man poised over her didn’t have dark curls, but straight silver-blond hair. He smiled down at her, eyes gleaming darkly.

‘Sylvie, my beautiful Sylvie,’ he murmured.

She shoved him away with a scream of absolute terror, the heel of her hand catching him hard on the jaw. She rolled to one side and out of bed in almost one movement.

‘Get away from me!’

Chest heaving in panic, she backed away to the door. The dark shape in her bed sat up groping wildly for the light switch and the lamp crashed to the floor.

‘Sylvie! What’s the matter?’

‘Keep away from me! Stay away!’

Sylvie flung the bathroom door wide open, heading for the girls’ bedroom, wanting only to escape.

‘Sylvie!’

She turned and caught a glimpse of Yul kneeling up on the bed with the quilt all tangled around him. He reached out towards her, his face twisted in anguish.

‘Sylvie what is it? Don’t go!’

She shook her head in complete confusion – this was now definitely Yul. Sobbing, she stumbled into the other bedroom and slammed the door shut, climbing into Celandine’s empty bed with all the lights blazing. Yul tried to come in but she shouted at him to leave her alone, and recognising the hysteria in her voice, he returned to their bedroom. He spent a fitful night, worried sick. Sylvie sat bolt upright with Bluebell’s quilt around her shoulders trying to stay awake. Every time her eyelids closed she’d jolt awake until at last she gave in to exhaustion and dozed restlessly. It was a long night and morning couldn’t come soon enough.

Sylvie sat hugging her knees and stared absently at the ragged trees outside, still holding on to brown leaves that longed to let go. Her breakfast sat untouched on the table, as did Yul’s. She closed her eyes and tried to swallow the sharp pain in her throat, a pain that also prickled at the back of her eyes and made hot tears well up suddenly and spill from under her closed eyelids. What was happening to her? What had happened last night?

She felt vulnerable and scared and worried about Yul. What must he be feeling? She’d never rejected him like that, not even during her illness. But she was sure it hadn’t been him in bed with her last night. She was certain it was Magus and not a figment of her imagination, just as his strong scent had been real a little earlier. Somehow, Magus had returned. She sat in a state of misery, unsure of what to do or say for the best. How could you tell your husband that in the middle of the night, just as you were about to make love, he’d transformed into his late and hated father? In the cold light of morning it seemed utterly ridiculous.

Yul had gone now, presumably down to his office. He’d tried to talk about it this morning but Sylvie simply couldn’t tell him what had happened. She’d stayed silent and withdrawn, resisting all his attempts to talk or just hold her, and eventually she begged him to forget the whole thing and leave her be. He’d looked so upset as he left but she was terrified of telling him what had really happened. She started to clear away the breakfast things, putting them in the dumb-waiter to go down to the kitchens. Her hands shook and the crockery rattled as she told herself firmly that her husband was not a shape-shifter and it couldn’t possibly have been Magus who’d come to her bed and almost made love to her last night. That was the stuff of madness.

Yul stomped around the Stone Circle feeling the anger rise within him.

‘Desecrated!’ he spat and kicked at the remains of the funeral pyre, filthy on the soft earth floor. Another great patch of scorched earth very close to the Altar Stone showed where the lightning bolt had struck the night before at Samhain, during the Dark Moon. It was as if the very elements themselves had turned against Stonewylde, striking at her heart. Yul shuddered at the memory of the lightning strike, recalling the terrible sensation when he’d felt his whole being switch polarity and jolt in agonising spasm. He looked up and the black crows and white skulls painted on the great stones leered down, mocking him.

‘Clear it up!’ he roared, kicking viciously again at the ash with his riding boot. ‘I want every single trace of this sacrilege removed! This is a place of life and energy, not death! Never, ever again … and wash the stones.’

The men who’d come up on the wagon to tidy the Circle looked at one another nervously.

‘But the paintings …’

‘Wash them off!’

‘But Yul, sir, it’s the custom to leave them until the Winter Solstice,’ said one of the men tentatively.

‘I don’t give a damn about the custom! That custom is finished! I want every single reminder of this awful Samhain ritual removed. If I find just one sign of it, there’ll be big trouble. Do you all understand?’

He glared at the group of men belligerently and they nodded and kept their eyes down. Yul was formidable when he was angry.

Without a backward glance he strode across to where Skydancer was loosely tethered and swung up into the saddle in one powerful motion. A nudge from his heels and the great horse launched into a canter down the Long Walk, also sensing his master’s anger and pent-up rage. They rode hard away from the Circle and up towards Dragon’s Back. Once on the ridgeway, Yul gave Skydancer his head and man and horse flew, sweat gradually drenching them both despite the cool November breeze. Eventually they slowed down many miles away, with the green hills of Stonewylde all around them and the soft grey skies above. Yul slumped in the saddle, his shoulders drooping as Skydancer ambled along getting his wind back, cropping occasionally at the short turf.

Yul gazed, without seeing, at the curved beauty of the landscape. His deep grey eyes were clouded with inner turmoil and his mouth, usually so firm, quivered. He fought back the tears, but lost the battle as great heaving sobs overwhelmed him. Sylvie was the person he held above all others. She was the brightness to his darkness, his counterpart and balance – how could she not want him? What had happened last night? He tried but failed to push away the terrible thought – was this a return to her illness?

A few days later, Leveret stood above the springhead looking down. The hill was almost vertical here and very short grass struggled to survive on the thin soil that barely covered the rock. Although she couldn’t actually see it, Leveret knew that just below her, under the craggy outcrop of rock at her feet, the spring gushed from a cleft in the rock-face. The clear, pure water tumbled down, seemingly a small fountain but quickly gaining in volume and velocity as it surged down the hill towards the distant Village.

It was joined on its journey by other small springs until it became the river that flowed past the Village, full of otters and kingfishers and overhung with weeping willows. An ox-bow next to the Playing Fields formed a great fresh-water pool with beaches where the children played and swam in the warm months. Yul had taught her to swim there many years ago. The river flowed on, past the mill where the flour was ground, the tannery where the skins were cured, the clay beds where the potters worked, and into the reed beds where the thatchers gathered their materials and the wading birds nested, before finally reaching the sea. Looking now at the thin trickle just visible through the undergrowth, it was hard to imagine such a small source creating such a body of water.

None of this occurred to Leveret as she stood listening to the water tinkling below. She’d come here unintentionally, wandering out of the Village along the river bank and then taking a detour when the spring became too small and steep to follow upstream any longer. She’d walked in the early morning half-light up into the springhead hills, feeling a need to be somewhere high and quiet. She stood on the rock above the watershed and gazed at the beauty all around her. Wisps of mist clung to the lower hills in the clean November morning. The sky was palest blue, with streaks of gold and pink to the east where the sun would soon rise. The morning star was fading fast, and a late fox slunk past her heading for its earth. The sound of joyous birdsong was all about. A pair of great buzzards circled overhead, mewing and calling mournfully. Their enormous wings were spread on the air currents, the white stripes and splayed end-feathers clearly visible as they drifted.

Leveret sighed deeply and the breath caught in her throat. She felt unutterably sad as she looked down at the boulders below. As she’d done so many times before, she questioned the point of it all. Her life was a misery and everyone was against her. The one thing she wanted to do – roam Stonewylde freely so she could learn about the plants and fungi, collect them and make concoctions to heal – was forbidden, and instead it was all duty. She must go to school, must work hard to get good exam results, must help with all the jobs at home, must join in the Village activities and be like everyone else.

But she wasn’t like everyone else. The other girls of her age – Tansy, Linnet, Bryony and Skipper to name a few, and even the younger ones like Cecily and Faun – they all belonged to something she didn’t even begin to understand. They were interested in the same things, laughed together, fancied boys openly, talked about all the boring stuff that they found fascinating and Leveret wasn’t a part of that. She couldn’t care less who said what, the clothes everyone wore, or whose hair was longer or prettier. She had her deep secrets and would rather have died than share these with such fatuous company. Although there was someone special she found attractive, this too was dark, forbidden territory where nobody trespassed. The only person she actually enjoyed being with was her friend Magpie and even he could be hard work at times – besides which, she wasn’t allowed to see him anymore either.

The glimmer of hope that had kept her going was the dream of contacting Mother Heggy at Samhain and of one day being the Wise Woman of Stonewylde. She’d completely messed that up, and then had another terrible fight with her mother after the fiasco at Samhain. Maizie was now adamant that Leveret would never be allowed to become a herbalist, but should instead go to university in the Outside World and become a doctor. Her future seemed as bleak as her present.

Since Samhain she’d felt as if she were walking a tightrope. Her mother was furious with her for disappearing from the Barn without saying where she was going, and had been threatening to talk to Yul. She’d also scolded Leveret for misleading Clip about her brothers. Once again, Sweyn had managed to twist the facts and avoid punishment for the apple-bobbing incident, and Leveret despaired of her mother ever listening to the truth. Rosie had taken her aside and called her selfish and unfeeling for spoiling Samhain for their mother, saying how ashamed she was to have such a nasty little sister. Sweyn and Gefrin had hinted darkly at some horror in store for her which filled her with dread, and she had to constantly manoeuvre herself into situations where she wouldn’t be alone with them. Magpie was upset with her too because she’d vanished at Samhain and not been with him.

Even Clip, whom she now thought of as her wise silver owl, had given her a stern talking to about the dangers of mushrooms and especially Fly Agaric. He’d made her promise never to take anything like that again when she was alone. She was still experiencing after-effects and Clip said that the hallucinations may continue sporadically for some time. She didn’t want to lose his good will too, and was grateful that he’d squared her absence with Maizie and tried to explain about Sweyn’s cruelty. It wasn’t Clip’s fault it fell on deaf ears – how was he to know that Maizie never ever stuck up for her but always took her brothers’ side?

Leveret looked down at the boulders and imagined how she’d actually die if she jumped. The quickest end would be if her head split open and her brains spilled out. The worst would be breaking a limb and being unable to move, to die slowly of exposure, as nobody would think of looking for her up here. Neither option was inviting and she decided that if she were to end her life it would have to be more controlled and less down to chance. She’d make herself a strong concoction – she knew several natural poisons – and ensure there was no doubt about the outcome. Not that she wanted to kill herself – life was difficult, but she wasn’t ready to pass on to the Otherworld yet. Magpie loved her even if nobody else did, and how would he manage without her friendship?

She dragged her gaze from the dangerous rocks below and looked up to the blue skies. The buzzards had disappeared, but ahead she saw a sight that made her heart lift. A lone kestrel, golden in the rising sun, hovered overhead. Its tail feathers fanned out and its wings were perfectly balanced to keep it almost motionless in the air. Leveret’s thin face broke into a rare smile – maybe the kestrel was an omen.

The early morning walk didn’t make her too late for school although Maizie was angry that she’d disappeared again and had missed breakfast. It was during Religious Studies, when she was grappling to understand how anyone could worship such strange gods in such bizarre ways, that the intercom phone buzzed and the teacher informed her she was to go to Yul’s office immediately. Tansy and Skipper whispered at this and several people looked at her strangely. Many forgot that she was Yul’s sister, which was just how she wanted it. But incidents like this reminded everyone and then she had to put up with more ostracism. It wasn’t that the young people of her age didn’t like their magus; rather it put Leveret into a different league to them.

Leveret stood in the doorway, her heart thudding. She wasn’t scared of Yul but of the power he had over her, over what she could and couldn’t do. He’d never hurt or torment her the way Sweyn and Gefrin loved to do, but ultimately he could make or break her life with just a few words. He held all the power and she had none.

Yul stood with his back to the door, looking out of the French windows at the gardens beyond. Leveret observed how his broad shoulders drooped. He still wore his riding clothes and she’d noticed lately how he was out and about very early every morning on Skydancer. Several times she’d had to hide in the bushes to avoid him seeing her. He seemed even taller than usual, although maybe he’d lost some weight. His dark hair was quite long now and she saw how it curled exactly the same as hers did with tiny bits of twig and leaf caught up in it.

There was something quite desolate in the way he stood lost in reverie, so large and powerful and yet so very defenceless. Leveret felt a sudden rush of her old love for him, for the big brother she’d once adored. He was still the same Yul. She had an entirely unexpected urge to run over and fling her arms around him, hug him very tight, kiss his cheek and gaze into his deep grey eyes just like she used to. To tell him that whatever was the matter, she still loved him and always would.

He turned, his eyes sad and mouth vulnerable. But when he saw Leveret his expression changed abruptly and he glared at her.

‘Stop lurking in the doorway, Leveret! Come in and shut the door – you and I need to have words.’

Her rekindled affection was promptly extinguished. She shoved the heavy door closed and stomped across the room to stand before him. He looked down at her, his face hard and closed. She glowered up at him through her mat of curls, green eyes insolent.

‘Well?’ he barked. ‘Do you know why you’re here?’

‘Because you sent for me.’

He nodded slowly, the lines around his mouth sharper than ever.

‘So that’s how you want to play it – fine by me. That’s exactly the attitude that has upset Mother so much. She’s at her wits’ end with you and it’s going to stop. You have to start behaving yourself as of today.’

She continued to stare up at him, not lowering her gaze, not looking contrite or in the least bit scared. He felt his fingers flexing and was shocked to realise he wanted to slap the insolence from her face, to grab hold of her shoulders and shake her hard. How dare she defy him like this? What could he do to stop her, to make her fear him and scare her into submission?

Then it hit him like a blow between the eyes – this was exactly how Magus had felt when, as a boy, he’d shown neither respect nor fear. Yul took a deep breath to steady himself at the enormity of this revelation. He’d never, ever even contemplated hitting a child. How could he have considered it now? It hadn’t been a conscious thought – his hands had started to move of their own accord. Was he turning into a sadistic bully like his father?

Yul shook his head and looked away, gazing once more out of the window at the clear November morning. He was tired, having been up since long before dawn riding like the devil along Dragon’s Back. He’d eaten no breakfast and had been sleeping very badly on the sofa; the last thing he’d needed was his mother upset and worried, nagging at him to sort Leveret out and make her behave when she couldn’t.

He closed his eyes for a moment and could feel himself trembling – with exhaustion, hunger or both, he wasn’t sure. That was why he’d felt that momentary urge to physically punish this small and pathetically defiant girl who was no threat to him, nor to the fabric of Stonewylde. He must keep this in proportion and not let his personal problems impinge on his judgement or handling of this situation.

He looked again at Leveret and saw her properly this time. She was still small for her age and always had been. She was remarkably like him, dark-haired and scowling, with winged eyebrows, a straight nose and full mouth. Her cheek bones were sharp and her jaw a softer female version of his. Her skin was olive like his, tanned from so much time spent outdoors and this made her clear sea-green eyes, so long-lashed and slanted, all the more striking. She wasn’t pretty but was attractive in an unusual, quirky way. She was also a little dirty and clearly not interested in her appearance, for her hair was wild and messy and her clothes very basic Stonewylde work-clothes of coarse linen, dyed a muddy green.

He thought suddenly of another half-sister, Magus’ daughter by Rowan, whom he’d noticed only yesterday as she ate lunch in the Hall. Faun must be two years younger than Leveret but she was clearly very self-aware. She was already taller than this dark-haired girl before him, long-limbed and quite plump, curvy where Leveret was slight. Faun had the silver-blond Hallfolk hair, which she tossed over her shoulders at every opportunity. Her pretty, smooth face was the complete opposite to Leveret’s pointed, secretive one.

Yul felt a surge of affection for this dark sister, whom he remembered had loved him fiercely as a small girl. He recalled her climbing all over him, begging him for more stories as his reading improved, riding on his shoulders for miles when he took her up into the hills. She’d always been naughty and defiant, never respected the rules. He remembered finding her once out in the back garden amongst the raspberry canes, the fruit all gone and a guilty look on her face. She’d run circles round the two brothers closest to her in age; Yul had made puzzles and played games with them and Leveret, so much brighter, always beat them. She’d been a delightful little girl, independent and fierce but very affectionate. What had gone wrong? Why was she so awful and sullen nowadays?

‘Come and sit down, Leveret,’ he said wearily. She followed him to the old leather sofa and sat stiffly on the edge whilst he sank back into the softness of it, his long body stretched out. ‘I’m going to call for some breakfast. Will you join me? Mother says you missed it again today.’

She shook her head.

‘Leveret, I know you. You’re kind and loving and I’m sure you don’t want to upset Mother deliberately. The way you’re behaving is really getting her down. I want to work this out with you for Mother’s sake. You love her too, don’t you? Will you listen to me? We can sort this out if you’ll meet me halfway.’

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t climb down from her position of stubbornness and defiance. If she did she was scared she’d capitulate totally and burst into tears, agreeing to everything he said and giving in to what Maizie wanted. Yul was very patient at first, trying hard to get through to her. The kinder he was, the stiffer she became. She refused to communicate, hating herself for being so difficult but not knowing how to compromise.

At last he fell silent, defeated, and she relaxed a little. He was being so nice and she ached with pity for him – for the sadness in his eyes, the tired lines on his face, the way he sighed and looked as if his world were falling apart. Deep inside, a little piece of her started to melt. Maybe she could tell him everything: her dream of being Stonewylde’s Wise Woman, her need to be free to roam, her fear of Sweyn and Gefrin and their cruel treatment. Maybe he’d understand and be on her side. They’d been really close once – maybe it could be like that again. She sat back a little on the sofa and turned to face him. His eyes were closed and his mouth soft, and she longed to hug him tight like she used to.

‘Yul, I—’

The intercom phone buzzed and he wearily opened his eyes and rose to answer it. Leveret sat there thinking of how to begin. She felt as if a great weight had been lifted. She should’ve come to Yul before – they’d always loved each other and maybe he’d only shut her out because he was so busy and preoccupied, not realising how much it hurt her. He slammed the phone down hard and strode back to stand before her. The sadness had vanished and his face was now taut and angry.

‘Right, Leveret. I’ve tried but have clearly not got through to you. So—’

‘Yul, I want to talk! I think—’

‘No! I’ve wasted enough time. You’ve had your chance to talk but we’ve been going round in circles here and now I’ve missed an important call, and you’ve managed to miss the rest of your lesson, which is probably what you wanted. I hear that you’re not working hard any more. Mother told me you don’t want to continue your studies after your exams, but be assured that you will. You’re blessed with intelligence and by goddess you’ll use it. I’ll be checking up on you at school regularly from now on, Leveret, and if I see you’re not working hard I’ll start breathing down your neck. You’ll start co-operating with Mother and do all the work you have to do at home just like every other person at Stonewylde. We grow our food and we make our clothes – it’s part of our lives here and you’re no exception.’

‘No, but you are,’ she muttered, her throat constricted with unshed tears at his sudden volte-face from the kind brother to magus.

‘WHAT?’

‘You don’t grow your food or make your clothes. Neither does your wife.’

‘Don’t you dare answer me back like that!’

She shrugged and stared ahead, her body once more stiff and defiant.

‘You will toe the line, Leveret, or suffer the consequences.’

‘Which are?’

Yul could bear her insolence no longer. He yanked her up from the sofa and gripped her by the shoulders, his fingers digging into the delicate bones, stooping so his face was level with hers. Flashing grey eyes locked onto rebellious green ones. She wouldn’t drop her gaze but sent out pulses of anger at him. His face darkened dangerously and she felt him tremble, struggling to control his rage. She almost wanted to laugh out loud at the power she had over him – she’d never seen him this angry before. He saw the exultation in her eyes and for a second she thought she’d gone too far, pushed him beyond control. She almost had. But Yul’s past was the most powerful factor in all that he did. Slowly and carefully he let go of her shoulders, straightened up and took a step back. He breathed deeply, consciously unclenching his jaw.

‘We’ll discuss the consequences at the end of school today – come back here then. Return to your lessons now and apologise for your absence. That’s all.’

Dismissed, she walked stiff-legged from the room and spent the rest of the morning worrying herself silly about what he was going to do. It made her angry that this was exactly what he’d intended.

At lunch time, she trooped into the Dining Hall and queued with everyone at the big serving tables for her food. She really didn’t want lunch but knew she needed to eat; she’d felt dizzy and weak all morning. The noise was terrible in here and she contemplated just walking out and skipping school completely for the afternoon. She could go home, get some bread and cheese and spend the afternoon out in the open. But Leveret knew that would only bring down more trouble on her head, especially if Yul wanted to see her later after lessons.

Feeling utterly despondent, she shuffled along in the queue with all the other students, slowly reaching the serving tables. Marigold stood here, sporting a large colourful apron and flushed cheeks. She was supervising the students on work detail who were busy serving up lamb hot pot and mashed potato.

‘Not that much, Bee! We’ll run out afore we’re halfway through! And don’t slop it everywhere!’

The students served the food from steaming vats, which were replaced at intervals from trolleys pushed in from the kitchen. The whole operation went like clockwork for Marigold was more than accustomed to feeding such large numbers, even if her latest band of helpers had little idea about portion control. Cherry, meanwhile, kept a close eye on the students clearing away the dirty plates and keeping the tables clean.

Leveret finally received her plateful and looked for a space to sit. The long tables were laid with cutlery, water and bowls of pears. Everywhere teemed with teenagers and she eyed the teachers’ corner warily, not wanting to sit anywhere near the large, secluded alcove where the adults were served their lunch. She scuttled down the long rows to a slightly emptier spot in the corner and quickly began to eat.

There may just be time to go outside to visit to the herb garden before afternoon classes began. Leveret knew that next September, the start of her final school year, she’d move up here and join the other boarders. She really hoped to get in Cherry’s good books and influence her when the work detail rotas were drawn up every week. If she could get herself rostered to work regularly in the herb garden, life would be a bit more bearable.

‘Can I sit here, Leveret?’

She scowled up through her mat of curls and was really surprised to see ginger hair. Rufus – the only person at Stonewylde, apart from his mother, to be blessed with truly red hair. Her scowl deepened. The last thing she wanted was to make conversation with a silly boy, who’d doubtless attract his mates to the table too. She knew it was Rufus’ first year at Senior School, although he lived in the Tudor Wing with Miranda. She’d seen him daily when they were at the Village School together, but had never really had much to do with Rufus. However as offspring of two of the key Council Elders and siblings of Yul and Sylvie, they’d been thrown together on occasions in the past. Leveret grunted noncommittally and continued eating quickly. If he thought she’d be friendly he was wrong.

‘I saw you coming out of Yul’s office at break time,’ said the boy, sitting down opposite her. He picked up his cutlery and started to eat, his table manners far neater than hers. Rufus watched her carefully from beneath his thick fringe of silky red hair. Like his half-sister Faun, he’d inherited his father’s deep brown eyes. Combined with the bright hair and pale skin, he was striking and Leveret had always thought of him as a red squirrel. Not that she thought of him much.

‘Did he ask to see you, or did you ask him?’

His voice was quiet and a little hesitant, and he nervously blinked at her through his fringe.

‘None of your business!’ she retorted. ‘What’s it to you?’

‘Sorry. It’s just that … I know you’re Yul’s half-sister and I’m his half-brother, and—’

‘Yeah, but different halves. I’m no relation to the old magus.’

‘No, I know – you’re lucky. Everyone hates him and I don’t like people thinking I’m going to turn out like him.’

‘Doesn’t seem to bother Yul. Or Faun.’

‘No, I suppose not.’

Leveret had almost finished her lunch and took a great gulp of water, anxious to be off. She’d take a pear with her to the herb garden.

‘Leveret, do you think …’

He stopped and she frowned at him. He was pretty hard work and she’d never asked him to sit here.

‘Spit it out, Rufus. Do I think what?’

He knew she was about to get up and leave, and it came tumbling out in a rush.

‘I really want Yul to teach me to ride and I want to go and ask him but I’m scared he’ll say no or just laugh or something and—’

‘Why on earth are you telling me this?’ she asked. ‘I can’t ride. Well, not very well.’

‘I just thought …’ he paused and looked at her in anguish. Their eyes met for the first time and Leveret felt an unexpected surge of sympathy. He had beautiful deep brown eyes, like soft velvet, and his hair reminded her of new conkers. But it wasn’t that – it was his wistfulness that got to her. So she smiled encouragingly; he’d been brave to come and sit with her and his mates were probably all laughing at him.

‘Tell me, then,’ she said more gently. ‘What did you think?’

‘I wondered as you’re so close to Yul if you might kind of … ask him for me? Or at least see if you think he’d listen if I asked? He’s so brilliant, such a fantastic rider and if he’d just take me out and—’

Leveret felt another rush of compassion. Poor kid – she needed to put him straight about his half-brother.

‘Rufus, I’m sorry but I don’t think I can help you. You’ve got the wrong idea about me and Yul. He never usually speaks to me at all and I was only in his office this morning to be told off.’

‘But you’re so close to him! I’ve seen you loads of times. I remember the day when he came on his horse – that beautiful Nightwing – to collect you from Nursery and he sat you up on the saddle in front of him and you galloped away together across the Village Green. And him giving you piggy-backs up to the Stone Circle for the ceremonies, and when he took you home from school that time you were sick all over the floor. And on the beach in the summer, you used to hold onto his neck when he swam out to the rock, and—’

Leveret felt a lump in her throat as his words spilled out. Poor Rufus; she’d never realised. It’d never occurred to her how Rufus must’ve felt watching her as a little girl with her wonderful big brother, who was also his big brother. She doubted it’d ever occurred to Yul either. She couldn’t actually recall one incident when she’d seen him even talk to the little boy, let alone make him feel special.

‘Oh Rufus! It’s true, Yul was lovely when I was young, before he went away to university and then came back and was hand-fasted. He was lovely and I adored him. But … but he’s not like that anymore. He’s horrible, really awful. He’s just been shouting at me in his office and I actually thought he was going to hit me!’

Rufus looked doubtful at this.

‘No, really! He grabbed me and his face was red and he was shaking with fury. He’s not a nice person anymore and really, you’re far better off without him. I’d steer well clear of him and not ask him about riding. He’ll just drop you when other people muscle in and he gets bored with you, and then …’

She couldn’t go on. Rufus stared at her, trying to gauge her expression under the curtain of black curls.

‘Leveret? Are you okay?’

She shook her head, keeping her face down.

‘Well … thanks for warning me. I might still ask him if I get a chance, but I won’t expect too much. Sorry if I’ve upset you.’

Rufus got up in embarrassment, taking his half-eaten lunch away. He’d never intended to make anyone cry.