“I assumed you would be ready by the morrow,” said the lord after a brief moment of silence. “I gave you time to prepare yourself. Even if you chose not to visit me. Besides, your father and sister assured me just now that you would be ready.”
A pain shot through my chest. I glanced at Father and Elfriede in turn, but neither would meet my gaze. Jurij, at least, seemed in genuine shock at the revelation. Perhaps he’d been dreaming of Elfriede when they’d had the discussion.
“I can see now that I was mistaken. The ceremony should be canceled,” continued the lord. He traced the table with the tip of a gloved finger as he made his way past my father to join Jurij and me at the other side. He held the finger up to his veil, examining the small traces of sawdust. Then he flicked away the dust with his thumb and grabbed my hand in his before I could stop him. His grip was harder than I remembered.
“But I will come for you on the morrow nonetheless.”
He slid my hand under his veil and pressed those cold, damp lips of marble to the tips of my fingers.
I didn’t speak for the rest of the evening. I couldn’t look at my father or Elfriede, and it was just as well for Father, who used the opportunity to stay long into the night at Vena’s. He didn’t appear again, not even in the morning to bid me farewell.
Elfriede busied herself first with freeing and washing Arrow and then with all manner of outside chores until the chilly air forced her to enter the home and pull herself beneath the bed covers. It wasn’t our shared bed that she entered, but our parents’. She needn’t have bothered. I didn’t use a bed. Instead, I curled up against Alvilda’s side, and we shared a quilt wrapped around our shoulders on the ground before the dying fire. She said nothing, only ceasing her gentle squeeze on my shoulder to stroke my hair on occasion.
Jurij gave me a sorry look and a pat or two on the shoulder before he disappeared outside with Elfriede. Some friend. But then, the command must have worn off after the Returning. When she came back inside, he wasn’t with her. I’d hoped to see him in the morning, but the carriage came bursting through the woods at the first fleck of light over the mountainous horizon. I felt the urge to flee, and I searched restlessly for some clue in Alvilda’s expression that I should follow the urge to run, that I could still hope for the choice that was my gift. The choice that was my right.
Alvilda wouldn’t meet my eyes.
Elfriede shuffled out of the house, her face red and puffy. She nervously embraced me. I didn’t embrace her back. I half wondered if she was secretly happy to see me go, so I could no longer distract Jurij from his goddess. Because I had no doubt that Jurij had told her of how I begged for his love. He wouldn’t have thought it mattered at all. And to him, it didn’t.
“Good tidings,” Elfriede whispered. “Joyous birthday.”
I turned away.
Six specters appeared beside me, two grabbing my arms, the others before and behind me. They moved me toward the carriage as if I were a ragdoll.
“Wait!” called Alvilda. “I have to say goodbye!”
The carriage door shut behind me. I peered out the small window to watch as Alvilda chased after us for a bit, and Elfriede stood frozen in the doorway. Then they were swallowed by the trees, and the breaking light of dawn was replaced by the shades of darkness.
“Olivière.” I heard the whisper of my dream even then. Even when there was no hope for me to escape to it.
***
“Is the venison not to your liking?”
Since he had already noticed, I let my fork fall abruptly to the plate, taking a little perverse pleasure in the drop of gravy that spoiled the delicate roses embroidered into the too-white tablecloth. I tore at the trencher meant for scraping the plate of the meat’s juices and swallowed a chunk of the white loaf. It crumbled too easily in my throat.
“Olivière?”
I continued chewing and stared across the far-too-long table at the speaker. My dining companion. A set of black-gloved hands attached to a hazy outline obscured by a sheer black curtain. Actual sunlight was allowed into this castle, even if it was only the orange tint of twilight and not the bright white of true sunbeams, but it could do little to help me make out the lord behind the curtain. So this was how the masked ate when their goddesses couldn’t perform the Returning. At least this was how this one ate. I couldn’t picture Master Tailor bothering with this elaborate set-up in his home. I believed he ate only with Jurij and Luuk, or maybe at the Great Hall with other men or with Alvilda. And never with his goddess.
But this masked lord wasn’t one for propriety.