“I won’t hear of it! You need a guide. Someone who knows the workings of this world.” His face was as woebegone as any kitten’s in a bath. “Please, my dear, give me your hand, and let’s have no more of this debate.”
Imraldera pursed her lips. Then, shaking her head and telling herself she would regret this, she gave the poet her arm and, with a great deal more splashing, helped him onto the mare’s back. They crossed the lake and dismounted on the edge of the Wood.
It was so vast. Imraldera stood on its edge, peering into the shadows through which she could see so little. She felt as though she struggled to see her future, a future she had never imagined, more frightening than death. And yet she felt that now, for the first time, she lived. She was the Silent Maid no longer. She had a voice, and with it she would speak the truth, even in the very depths of the Gray Wood.
“What do you think, my girl?” Eanrin said, folding his arms. “Are you ready for another adventure?”
“I don’t know,” she replied.
“Me either.” Eanrin grinned. “But the glorious unknown waits for no one! Shall we off?”
Imraldera’s stern mouth relaxed, if only for a breath, into a smile. Then she strode forward, disappearing into the foliage. The poet meowled and darted after, and the two of them vanished into the shadows. órfhlaith, standing a while on the edge of Rudiobus, thought she caught the faintest whisper of the poet’s song:
“Oh, woe is me, I am undone,
In sweet affliction lying!
For though my labor’s scarce begun,
It leaves me sorely sighing
After the maiden I adore,
Who marches bravely to Death’s door.
Be bold, my heart! Now is the hour!
You’ve dared to love the Maid Starflower.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE
MANY OF THE THEMES found in Starflower were inspired by a beautiful poem written by Francis Thompson. The poem is called “The Hound of Heaven,” and Thompson succinctly (after the manner of poets) expresses so much of what I want to say rather less succinctly (after the manner of novelists) in the story I just shared with you. I encourage you to read the poem in full but thought I’d include the first stanza for you here: I fled Him, down the nights and down the days; I fled Him, down the arches of the years; I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears I hid from Him, and under running laughter.
Up vistaed hopes I sped; And shot, precipitated, Adown Titantic glooms of chasmèd fears, From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.
But with unhurrying chase, And unperturbed pace, Deliberate speed, majestic instancy, They beat—and a Voice beat More instant than the Feet— “All things betray thee, who betrayest Me.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Anne Elisabeth Stengl makes her home in Raleigh, North Carolina, where she lives with her husband, Rohan, a passel of cats, and one long-suffering dog. When she’s not writing, she enjoys Shakespeare, opera, and tea, and studies piano, painting, and pastry baking. She studied illustration at Grace College and English literature at Campbell University. She is the author of Heartless, Veiled Rose, Moonblood, and Starflower. Heartless and Veiled Rose have each been honored with a Christy Award.